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THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER 


Of  CIUF.   LIBimy,   MS 


THE 
OLD  DANCE  MASTER 


BY 

WILLIAM   ROMAINE  PATERSON 

(BENJAMIN  SWIFT) 


Mem  Gedanke  ist  wit  tin  Tan-z.tr 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1911 


Copyright,  f(?ff, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 


jill  rightt  rettrvtd^ 
Published,  May,  1911 


THE   UNIVERSITY   PRESS,   CAMBRIDGE,   U.S.A. 


PREFACE 

IF  the  author  were  asked  why  he  wrote 
this  little  story  he  could  only  stammer  an 
unsatisfactory  reply.  For  the  book  simply 
grew  during  three  years  in  a  mind  that  was 
busy  with  different,  very  different  things. 
Out  of  a  chaos  and  phantasmagoria  of  char- 
acters, impressions,  suggestions,  there  grad- 
ually began  to  emerge  the  face  and  figu're 
of  a  pleasant  old  man,  one  Habenichts,  who 
had  been  buffeted  but  not  vanquished  by 
Fortune. 

And  then,  in  his  train,  came  limping,  some- 
times in  groups,  sometimes  singly,  a  strange, 
dingy  crowd,  who,  however,  began  to  brighten 
somewhat  at  the  touch  of  Habenichts,  the  old 
dance  master.  In  vain  the  writer  tried  to 
drive  him  and  them  out  of  his  mind.  They 


2133077 


vi  PEEFACE 

postured  before  him,  became  obstinate,  im- 
portunate, articulate.  He  began  to  listen  for 
their  footfall  and  their  voices.  Lo,  they  were 
already  dancing  in  his  brain,  and  whispering 
all  sorts  of  gossip  in  his  ear,  and  at  last  they 
compelled  him  to  sit  down,  and  he  became 
their  stenographer. 

WILLIAM  ROMAINE  PATERSON. 


THE 

OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

CHAPTER   FIRST 

IT  was  almost  half-past  six  on  a  January  evening, 
and,  with  one  exception,  the  night  cabs  had  left  the 
yard  not  to  return  till  seven  or  eight  o'clock  next 
morning.  A  smart  hansom  with  horse  yoked  and 
lamps  lit  stood  in  the  middle  of  Larkin's  cab-yard, 
while  Vardy,  the  stable-boy,  rubbed  with  a  yellow 
rag  the  rings  and  buckles  of  the  harness,  the  terrets, 
the  bridle  ornaments,  the  breeching,  and  the  shaft 
straps.  He  was  whistling  and  hissing  in  the  manner 
which  grooms  enjoy  and  horses  approve.  The  fine 
gloss  of  the  roof  and  the  sides  of  the  hansom,  the  shin- 
ing wheels,  the  polished  glass  of  the  lamps  and  the 
windows,  the  burnished,  silver-mounted  "  butterfly  " 
through  which  the  long  reins  pass  before  they  reach 
the  driver's  hands,  and  the  glittering  harness  were  not 
only  a  credit  to  Vardy,  but  seemed  to  suggest  that  the 
cab  was  no  ordinary  vehicle.  It  had,  indeed,  been 
a  private  hansom,  and  whatever  clean  water  and 
chamois  leather  could  do  was  daily  done  for  it. 


2  THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTEE 

Together  with  the  horse  and  the  harness,  it  had  cost 
Mr.  Samuel  Larkin,  the  proprietor,  one  hundred  and 
thirty-eightr  pounds  sterling,  had  been  purchased  from 
the  estate  of  a  gentleman  deceased,  and  had  been  con- 
sidered to  be  a  remarkable  bargain.  The  upholstery 
was  of  green  morocco  leather,  and  there  was  a  deep 
pocket  under  each  of  the  side  windows.  The  rubber 
foot-mat  was  intact  and  spotless,  and  the  cab  was 
furnished  with  a  neat  inner  lamp  fixed  at  the  back, 
two  mirrors,  an  ivory  match-box  holder,  and  a  silver- 
plated  ash-tray.  In  fact,  it  was  the  smartest  thing  on 
the  London  cab  ranks,  and  it  had  been  bought  in  one 
of  Larkin's  expansive,  expensive  moments  after  he 
had  had  two  or  three  double-shotted  drinks.  By  the 
shape  of  his  hocks,  his  loins,  and  his  shoulders,  the 
chestnut  horse  was  obviously  an  old  hunter,  and  his 
name,  which  was  "  Audacity,"  fitted  him  as  perfectly 
as  his  harness.  Eor,  as  if  to  give  warning  that  his 
pride  and  fire  were  not  yet  extinct,  he  grew  skittish 
in  the  streets,  and  sometimes  jibbed  in  indignation 
over  his  new  work  of  pulling  instead  of  leaping.  Mr. 
Larkin  had  never  intended  either  the  horse  or  the 
hansom  to  do  night  work.  He  was  very  proud  of  both, 
and  he  called  the  turn-out  his  "  private  consarn."  He 
stood  admiring  it  while  he  smoked  his  pipe  at  his 
house  door,  which  abutted  on  the  yard,  and  his  burly 
figure  almost  filled  the  doorway.  The  square  in- 
candescent gas  lamp  fixed  on  the  lintel  threw  down 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  3 

abundant  light  on  the  white-washed  entrance  step, 
and  displayed  the  bulky  man  dressed  in  a  snuff- 
coloured  suit  and  a  dusty  bowler  hat.  His  grey,  heavy 
moustache,  full,  red,  weather-beaten  cheeks,  and  his 
eyes,  that  seemed  always  to  be  looking  towards  wide 
horizons,  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a  farmer.  There 
was,  besides,  sufficient  light  streaming  across  the  yard 
to  show  up  the  small  head,  fine  ears,  silken  mane,  and 
well-built  legs  and  fetlocks  of  old  "  Audacity." 

"  Is  that  you,  Joey  ?  "  asked  Larkin. 

"  Yes,  s'r,"  said  Vardy,  who  was  on  the  off-side 
and  was  polishing  the  right  winker  with  the  rag  which 
was  as  yellow  and  as  stained  as  his  breeches  and  his 
leather  leggings. 

"  What 's  this  'ere  wehicle  goin'  out  to-night  for  ?  " 

"  Special  job,  guv'nor,"  replied  Vardy,  with  a  sort 
of  mock  solemnity,  and  in  a  tone  which  was  about  an 
octave  deeper  than  usual. 

"  What  job,  Joey  ?    Never  heard  on  it." 

"  'Im  as  drives  knows,"  answered  the  boy,  smiling, 
and  resting  his  hand  on  the  saddle-tree. 

"Swefling?" 

"  Yes,  s'r.  Woa,  *oss,  woa !  "  cried  Vardy,  seizing 
the  bridle,  because  "  Audacity "  was  growing  more 
audacious,  and  was  threatening  to  plunge  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  gate.  "  Steady  there,  will  yer !  " 

"  Where  is  he,  Joey  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Larkin,  leaning 
against  the  door-post. 


4  THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

"  In  the  'arness-room,"  said  Vardy,  who  now  came 
round  to  the  near  side  where  his  lean  figure  became 
fully  visible,  while  his  scarlet  braces  looked  bright 
under  the  cab  lamp. 

For  although  the  night  was  cold  the  boy  was  jack- 
etless  and  waistcoatless,  and  the  sleeves  of  his  blue 
shirt  were  rolled  up  as  far  as  the  elbows. 

"  That  'a  funny.  I  call  it  funny.  He  never  said 
nothin'  to  me,"  remarked  Mr.  Larkin,  and  then 
crossed  his  feet  as  if  he  had  decided  to  wait  for  an 
explanation.  "  Had  supper,  Joey  ?  " 

"Just  goin',  Mr.  Larkin.  Ain't  it  sharp  them 
nights  ?  I  do  feel  'clined  for  a  hinside  linin',"  for 
such  was  Vardy's  definition  of  a  meal. 

"  Ain't  that  a  pretty  consarn,  Joey  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Larkin,  pointing  to  the  cab. 

"  No  mistake.  A  stunner.  Riglar  flasher.  I  'm 
blarmed  if  she  ain't  up  to  the  knocker,"  replied 
Vardy,  inwardly  cursing  because  while  he  was  kept 
cooling  his  heels  in  the  yard  his  supper  of  hot  eels 
was  cooling  in  the  slap-bang  shop  across  the  street. 

Swefling,  who  was  putting  on  his  coat  and  his 
gloves  in  the  harness-room,  was  Larkin's  best  whip, 
and  the  fact  that  the  best  cab  and  the  two  fastest 
trotters,  "  Audacity "  and  "  Ready  Money,"  were 
assigned  to  him  was  a  matter  of  jealousy  among  the 
other  men.  Vardy  and  old  Tom,  the  one-eyed  stable- 
man, refused  to  be  spies,  but  Swefling  had  enemies  in 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER  5 

the  yard,  and  they  resented  his  luck,  his  smart  dress- 
ing, and  his  considerable  airs.  Moreover,  they  were 
suspicious  that  he  was  in  love  with  Mr.  Larkin's 
daughter.  To  Vardy,  however,  he  was  nothing  less 
than  a  hero.  Certain  of  Swelling's  horse-breaking 
feats  on  Larkin's  Essex  farm  —  for  Sam  was  a  small 
breeder  —  had  aroused  astonishment  in  the  stable- 
boy.  He  believed  that  every  horse-tamer  was  a  great 
man,  and  he  yearned  to  have  a  hand  and  a  leg  like 
Swelling's.  Vardy  hoped  that  in  a  year  or  two  he 
likewise  would  be  driving  a  cab,  and  would  be  seeing 
and  enjoying  London  from  the  dicky.  Eor  he  de- 
spised the  new  motors  which  threatened  destruction 
to  men  like  Larkin,  and  were  lowering  profits  and 
wages  in  all  the  old  cab-yards.  Was  it  not  true  that 
"  Swef  "  was  competing  against  them  with  tolerable 
success  ?  Although  the  old  cabs  were  being  sold  for  a 
five-pound  note  apiece,  and  although  Sam  Larkin 
spoke  of  giving  up  the  business,  and  going  home  to 
Essex,  Swefling  came  back  to  the  yard  every  night 
with  money  jingling  in  his  pockets.  In  Piccadilly  or 
Pall  Mall,  round  about  clubland,  Swefling  was  picked 
out  by  well-dressed  fares  of  both  sexes.  He  and  his 
shining  cab  drew  attention.  The  silk  hat  slightly, 
but  ever  so  slightly,  cocked,  the  dark  blue,  double- 
buttoned  overcoat  surmounted  by  a  clean  white  collar, 
the  clean  white  whip  and  his  manner  of  holding  it, 
the  style  in  which  Swefling  brought  his  wheel  and  the 


6  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

kerb  within  a  hair's  breadth  of  nearness,  the  engaging 
smile  with  which  he  welcomed  his  fares,  lifted  his 
reins  out  of  the  way  of  their  hats,  and  then  bent  for- 
ward to  receive  instructions,  all  this  seemed  to  show 
that  in  number  7006  there  were  good  manners,  gaiety, 
and  even  a  kind  of  romance  not  usually  discovered 
among  the  drivers  of  hackney  carriages.  While  other 
men  were  making  shillings  he  was  making  half- 
crowns.  While  they  were  cursing  the  motor-cabs  he 
was  thanking  Providence  and  Larkin  for  his  good  for- 
tune. Oh  the  free  life  in  the  streets  of  London  and 
the  music  of  the  wheels!  Of  course  it  was  only  be- 
cause the  turn-out  was  so  distinctive  that  its  driver 
was  able  to  handle  more  silver  than  what  his  rivals 
could  count  up  at  the  close  of  the  day. 

"  Tin,"  said  Vardy  to  him  one  day,  in  envy  and 
admiration,  "  you  've  'atf uls  of  it !  " 

The  truth  was,  however,  that  the  profits  fluctuated. 
But  Mr.  Richard  Swefling  was  a  man  of  ambition, 
although  he  was  meanwhile  content,  and  enjoyed  his 
life.  In  spite  of  the  moustache  he  had  rather  the  cut 
of  a  huntsman  or  whipper-in,  and  perhaps  it  was 
because  he  was  sitting  on  such  a  high  perch  above 
his  fellow-men  that  he  had  acquired  a  certain  air  of 
condescension.  Constant  exposure  to  the  weather 
made  him  look  as  if  he  had  lately  arrived  from  the 
country.  But  although  he  did  make  periodical  visits 
to  Larkin's  farm  near  Epping,  he  spent  his  days  and 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  7 

nights  in  London.  Here,  too,  he  was  able  in  all 
weathers  to  live  an  outdoor  life.  Except  to  oblige  a 
pal,  however,  he  seldom  was  on  night  duty.  And 
when  he  could  not  handle  the  ribbons  himself  he 
never  employed  a  "  buck."  He  called  for  his  cab 
about  9  a.m.,  changed  horses  at  3  p.m.,  remained  in 
the  streets  until  the  theatres  "  burst "  (as  cabmen 
say),  which  is  about  11  p.m.,  and  he  came  back  to 
the  stable  about  midnight.  That  was  his  day,  and 
in  his  own  opinion  only  a  fool  would  grumble  at  it. 
Larkin  had  always  found  him  to  be  a  steady  payer, 
and  on  that  particular  January  evening,  Swefling 
handed  over  eleven  shillings  for  the  day's  hire  of  the 
cab.  Since  he  had  asked  a  night  off,  however,  and 
would  be  the  loser  if  the  hire  for  a  full  day  had  to  be 
paid,  Larkin  gave  back  two  shillings.  It  was  because 
Swefling  had  said  that  he  would  n't  be  working  that 
night  that  the  proprietor  was  so  surprised  to  see 
"  Audacity  "  between  the  shafts  again. 

"  Swef,"  cried  Vardy,  putting  his  hand  at  the  side 
of  his  mouth  in  order  to  make  the  sound  travel  better, 
"  are  yer  on  the  ramble  ?  Guv'nor  's  been  wytin' 
abaht  'arf-an-hour." 

"  Coming,"  responded  a  voice  from  the  harness- 
room. 

Vardy  stepped  on  the  footboard,  and  slipped  the 
twenty-feet  reins  through  the  "  butterfly."  Then  he 
gave  a  last  flick  with  his  rag  to  the  "  dash  "  and  the 


8  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

heelboard,  and,  as  he  was  coming  off  the  cab,  he 
glanced  towards  the  house  door  where  Mr.  Larkin  was 
still  standing.  The  reason  why  he  exclaimed  "  Oh 
my  eye !  "  was  because  he  saw  immediately  behind  the 
proprietor  the  charming  figure  of  Miss  Dorothy 
Larkin  in  a  pink  hood  and  a  pink  cloak,  as  if  ready 
for  a  theatre  or  a  ball.  In  her  right  hand  she  had  a 
fan  and  a  pair  of  white  satin  slippers,  and  with  her 
left  she  held  up  the  edge  of  a  besilvered  muslin  skirt. 
Dorothy  was  agitated. 

There  was  a  commotion  and  a  look  of  annoyance 
in  her  face;  then  came  a  frown  which  was  followed 
by  pouting,  and  she  seemed  to  be  at  a  loss  to  know 
whether  to  advance  or  retire.  Since  she  wished  to 
avoid  notice,  she  should  have  gone  through  the 
kitchen,  where,  by  means  of  a  door  which  opened  into 
the  old  coach-houses,  she  could  have  found  a  round- 
about way  to  the  yard.  But,  to  be  sure,  Mr.  Larkin 
would  thus  have  seen  her  entering  the  cab.  Besides, 
she  guessed  that  Mr.  Larkin  's  sisters  were  in  the 
kitchen,  and  when  the  reader  becomes  acquainted 
with  them  he  will  understand  why  Dorothy  paused. 
If  Mrs.  Muzzey  had  been  alone,  our  remarkable  hero- 
ine might  have  ventured  to  face  her,  but  there  was 
also  Mrs.  Bleeks,  who  was  as  formidable  as  a  she- 
bear. 

That  had  been  an  unlucky  day.  Even  as  late  as  a 
quarter-past  five  o'clock,  it  was  still  supposed  that 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  9 

Mr.  Larkin,  Mrs.  Muzzey,  and  Mrs.  Bleeks  were 
going  to  spend  the  evening  with  friends  in  Euston 
Square.  But  at  the  last  moment  Mrs.  Bleeks  com- 
plained of  a  headache,  and  whenever  Mrs.  Bleeks  had 
a  headache,  Mrs.  Muzzey  declared  she  had  one  too.  So 
that  unknown  to  Dorothy,  who  was  dressing,  Vardy 
was  sent  with  apologies.  Now,  some  days  ago  Dorothy 
had  asked  Swefling  to  drive  her  secretly  to  Jellini's 
Dancing  Academy,  in  Tottenham  Court  Road.  She 
had  already  made  frequent  and  clandestine  visits 
there,  and  was  the  star  of  the  rooms.  But  this  was  to 
be  a  gala  night,  and  the  pupils  were  expected  to  make 
a  brave  display.  In  vain,  and  long  ago,  Dorothy  had 
implored  her  aunts  to  allow  her  to  learn  dancing. 
They  had  steadily  refused  permission,  and  her  father 
had  agreed  with  them.  Many  a  time  she  had  shut 
the  great  doors  of  one  of  the  empty  coach-houses,  and 
all  alone  had  practised  her  steps  on  the  brick  floor. 
During  stray  hours  in  the  forenoon  she  had  stealthily 
hurried  to  Jellini's,  where  she  had  got  herself  en- 
rolled, and  had  been  taught  the  more  elaborate  move- 
ments of  intricate  dances.  And  she  reddened  when 
Mrs.  Bleeks  inquired  why  she  took  such  a  long  time 
over  her  shopping.  Prolonged  exasperation  had  made 
the  red-lipped,  dark-haired,  dark-eyed,  white-slip- 
pered Dorothy  very  bold.  She  determined  to  present 
her  enemies  with  the  accomplished  fact.  Yet  as  the 
night  of  the  pupils'  ball  approached  she  grew  nervous, 


10  THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

and  she  hoped  to  return  safely  from  her  great  adven- 
ture long  after  Mrs.  Muzzey  and  Mrs.  Bleeks  would 
have  their  grey  heads  in  their  night-caps. 

Dorothy  was  seventeen,  and  her  dark  liquid  eyes 
had  begun  to  look  out  upon  the  world  in  expectancy 
and  wonder.  She  was  judged  to  be  singularly  at- 
tractive, and  she  had  a  way  with  her,  a  grace  and  a 
carriage,  which  astonished  people  when  they  heard  of 
her  curious  surroundings  in  the  cab-yard.  But  she 
was  already  aware  of  irrepressible  instincts  to  which 
she  found  no  response  in  those  surroundings.  She 
loved  music,  and  she  read  poetry  and  made  steady 
efforts  to  complete  what  had  been  on  the  whole  a  good 
education.  Her  love  of  picture  galleries  was  con- 
demned by  her  aunts,  who  said  that  it  boded  no  good 
character  and  proved  her  to  be  an  idle,  pleasure-loving 
creature.  She  displayed,  too,  an  uncommon  gift  for 
drawing  and  painting.  But  although  her  little  Essex 
landscapes  in  oils  and  water-colours  were  really  re- 
markable, the  best  of  all  were  the  realistic  sketches  of 
the  cab-yard,  the  old  cabs,  the  horses,  and  the  differ- 
ent types  of  London  cabmen.  Swelling,  for  instance, 
was  immeasurably  puffed  up  when  he  heard  that  she 
had  painted  him  driving  "  Audacity  "  in  the  smart 
hansom.  But  it  was  to  an  old  farmhouse,  not  far 
from  Colchester,  that  the  girl's  earliest  memories  and 
affections  clung.  In  the  eyes  of  her  aunts  her  un- 
pardonable sin  consisted  in  her  resemblance  to  her 


. 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  11 

mother,  for  they  had  never  loved  their  late  sister-in- 
law.  What,  however,  greatly  troubled  Dorothy  that 
night  was  not  merely  her  old  fear  of  her  aunts.  At 
the  worst  she  might  be  stripped  of  her  besilvered 
muslin  dress  and  sent  to  bed.  But  she  was  afraid 
that  Swefling,  as  her  accomplice,  might  also  suffer. 
Swelling  ha,d  come  to  the  yard  when  Dorothy  was 
fourteen,  and  she  had  never  heard  either  from  Mrs. 
Muzzey  or  from  Mrs.  Bleeks  a  single  good  word  in  his 
favour.  As  she  grew  older  she  began  to  speak  up  and 
to  speak  out  for  him.  She  used  to  watch  him  driving 
into  and  out  of  the  yard.  If  she  were  at  the  parlour 
window  he  would  smile  to  her  from  the  dicky  as  he 
passed,  and  bring  his  whip  to  his  hat  To  the  aston- 
ishment of  the  old  women  they  once  found  their  niece 
in  the  parlour,  giving  Swefling  tea  in  a  cup  which 
belonged  to  the  best  china  service.  There  was  a 
scene,  and  Swefling  was  ordered  into  the  yard,  but 
Dorothy  told  him  to  take  his  tea  with  him.  Unluckily 
he  laid  the  cup  and  the  saucer  in  the  horse  trough  in 
"  Audacity's  "  stall.  "  Audacity  "  touched  them  both 
with  his  nose,  and  having  no  use  for  such  things  he 
dashed  them  against  the  wall  where  they  were  broken 
beyond  repair.  Dorothy,  who  never  heard  the  end 
of  that  story,  was  told  that  she  should  be  called 
"  Audacity." 

It  is  true  that  long  indulgence  in  gin  blunts  the 
sense  of  smell,  and  yet  Mrs.  Bleeks  was  aware  of  a 


12  THE    OLD   DAKCE   MASTER 

new,  strange,  and  delightful  perfume  which  filled  the 
rambling  lobby  that  connected  the  kitchen  with  the 
other  rooms  and  the  main  door.  Asking  herself  if  she 
was  drunk,  or  if  the  wallflower  in  the  window-boxes 
could  by  a  miracle  be  blooming  in  January,  she  came 
sniffing  and  shuffling  through  the  passage,  tapping 
with  her  stick.  As  she  moved  along  it  seemed  to  her 
that  the  fragrance  was  growing  stronger.  Mrs. 
Bleeks  had  her  head  bound  slantwise  with  a  white 
handkerchief  which  formed  a  band  across  her  right 
eye,  and,  like  a  turban,  covered  also  her  right  ear. 
A  quarter  of  her  somewhat  owl-like  countenance  was 
thus  concealed.  She  was  a  woman  of  medium  stature, 
with  a  strong  chin,  sharp,  aquiline  nose,  and  beady 
black  eyes.  Her  face  was  generally  pale,  tending 
towards  sallow.  She  wore  a  black  woollen  headgear, 
shaped  like  a  night-cap,  and  fastened  by  two  black 
silk  strings  under  her  prominent  chin.  The  knots  of 
the  white  handkerchief  were  fixed  tightly  on  the 
crown  of  her  head,  and  the  ends  stood  up  like  rabbits' 
ears.  As  long  as  headaches  lasted,  Mrs.  Bleeks  took 
refuge  in  such  bandages,  and  it  was  only  Vardy  who 
could  tie  them  tightly  enough  to  suit  her.  She  gen- 
erally gave  him  a  penny  for  the  trouble.  Patches  of 
grey  hair  formed  curves  on  her  skinny  forehead. 
On  the  whole,  her  appearance  did  not  belie  her  strong 
character.  She  was  a  born  fighter.  She  entertained 
only  a  very  poor  opinion  of  the  present  age,  and  con- 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  13 

sidered  that  the  whole  world  began  to  droop  as  the 
clock  struck  midnight  on  the  last  night  of  the  nine- 
teenth century.  She  described  herself  as  part  and  par- 
cel of  the  reign  of  Queen  Victoria,  whom  she  believed 
she  resembled,  and  whose  portrait,  hanging  above  Mrs. 
Bleeks's  bed,  was  often  addressed  in  loyal  and  lauda- 
tory speeches.  The  new  inventions  in  science,  espe- 
cially in  motor  cars,  were  Mrs,  Bleeks's  chief  abhor- 
rence. Her  husband  had  been  the  owner  of  six  Lon- 
don omnibuses,  and  Mrs.  Bleeks's  maintained  that  it 
would  be  far  better  for  the  world  to  jog  on  in  the 
old  way.  She  had  her  own  views,  too,  regarding 
the  proper  pronunciation  of  our  mother  tongue,  and 
she  did  not  accept  all  the  new  strange  slang  which 
she  heard  among  the  younger  set  in  the  yard.  For 
instance,  she  declared  that  "  a  slop "  was  not  a 
correct  word  for  policeman,  and  that  he  should  be 
called  "  a  copper,"  or  "  a  crusher,"  or  "  a  beak." 
Again,  gin  with  her  was  either  "  white  satin "  or 
"  a  flash  o'  lightnin',"  and  never  "  blue  ruin "  or 
"  bottled  earthquake."  These  later  additions  to  the 
dictionary  of  the  streets  she  disdained  as  she  dis- 
dained the  generation  who  used  them.  But  perhaps 
her  contempt  was  chiefly  moved  by  the  unheroic  man- 
ner in  which  the  moderns  carry  their  liquor.  To 
be  made  easily  drunk  was  to  be  in  danger  of  her 
scorn.  The  last  generation  had  far  stronger  heads. 
Those  who  were,  as  she  declared  herself  to  be,  "  well 


14  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

edicated  "  and  blessed  with  strong  wills  and  strong 
nerves,  behaved  when  in  their  cups  as  gentlefolks 
behaved  when  drinking  water.  They  knew  how  to 
"  shunt "  the  more  skittish  liquors  at  the  proper 
time  and  in  the  proper  doses.  She  was  a  "  gin 
shunter  "  herself.  If  she  moved  about  with  a  stick 
it  was,  she  said,  because  of  rheumatism,  or  in  order 
to  use  it  on  the  backs  of  impudent  street  urchins, 
and  not,  as  uncharitable  critics  hinted,  because  she 
had  just  come  from  the  tavern. 

"  A  ole  fiddle,"  she  said  to  her  niece,  "  makes  the 
best  music.  I  likes  to  be  jolly  myself  and  see  others 
so.  Ain't  wot  I  once  was,  though.  Gettin'  on  now. 
But  if  it  was  n't  for  them  wrinkles  and  the  skin 
wot 's  parchment/,  I  would  be  jist  as  bloomin'  as 
when  Bleeks  fust  came  arter  me.  As  things  is  I  'm 
ev'ry  hinch  as  'appy  as  the  Lor'  May'r." 

An  honest  biographer,  however,  is  compelled  to 
deny  that  Mrs.  Bleeks  did  much  to  make  her  niece 
jolly.  On  the  contrary,  she  thoroughly  frightened 
Dorrie,  who,  whenever  she  heard  the  wheezing  of  the 
asthma  or  the  tapping  of  the  stick  or  the  various 
little  grunts,  sighs,  and  loud  breathings  which  some- 
times indicated  Mrs.  Bleeks's  proximity,  felt  an  over- 
mastering desire  to  escape  and  to  hide  herself  in  the 
hayloft.  On  the  present  occasion  that  would  have 
been  impossible,  and,  besides,  Dorrie  was  not  aware 
that  Mrs.  Bleeks  was  actually  behind  her,  and  was 


THE    OLD    DANCE   MASTER  15 

sniffing  the  perfume  which  was  being  wafted  by  the 
air  from  the  open  door. 

"  Wot 's  this  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bleeks  suddenly, 
whereupon  both  Mr.  Larkin  and  his  daughter  turned 
round  with  a  start. 

"  Oh,  my  'at !  "  cried  Vardy,  dropping  his  "  h." 
He  was  still  watching  the  cab.  And  then  at  the 
risk  of  letting  "  Audacity "  bolt  he  bolted  himself 
into  the  harness-room  to  tell  Swening  that  a  family 
row  had  begun. 

Meantime  Mr.  Larkin  was  expressing  as  much 
surprise  as  Mrs.  Bleeks,  and  an  animated  conversa- 
tion was  taking  place  on  the  threshold. 

"  This,"  said  Mr.  Larkin,  "  is  your  little  bit  of 
a  game,  my  pippin.  Well,  I  never !  It 's  my  lady- 
ship's carriage  what 's  at  the  door,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  Don't  wait  up,  father,"  said  Dorrie,  suddenly 
bold ;  "  I  'm  going  to  Jellini's." 

"  Wot !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bleeks,  as  she  seized 
the  pink  cloak  and  lifted  its  edge  in  order  to  see 
what  was  beneath.  "  Who  said  Jellini's  ?  Sam, 
you  're  not  goin'  to  allow  of  it."  ^. 

"  Don't  spoil  my  dress,"  replied  Dorothy,  snap- 
pishly. 

"  Oh,  in  coorse  not !  "  retorted  her  aunt  "  Never 
touch  a  goldfish  with  yer  'ands.  I  s'pose  mine  's  too 
dirty  washin'  sarsepans  and  hosspails  and  wot  not. 
My  wig!  If  this  ain't  a  piece  of  flummery  and 


16  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

never  doubt  it  I  If  this  ain't  a  piece  of  perfumed 
silk  stockinged  gentry  got  up  for  the  ball,  and  the 
theayter,  wot  should  be  lookin'  arter  her  dooties  and 
makin'  down  the  beds !  Where  's  my  sister  ?  " 

Mrs.  Muzzey,  indeed,  attracted  by  the  shindy,  and 
thinking  that  Mrs.  Bleeks  was  fighting  one  of  the 
yardmen,  was  coming  along  the  passage  at  that  mo- 
ment. The  sisters  were  twins,  and  they  resembled 
each  other  so  closely  that  a  stranger  might  have  mis- 
taken the  one  for  the  other.  But  Mrs.  Muzzey, 
though  a  quarter  of  an  inch  taller,  and  apparently 
stronger,  was  intellectually  and  morally  a  weaker 
edition  of  Mrs.  Bleeks.  She  wore  a  white  instead  of 
a  black  cap,  and  there  was  a  white  apron  pinned  to 
her  skirt. 

"  Liza,"  cried  Mrs.  Bleeks,  with  a  great  burst  of 
laughter,  "  bring  yer  hopera  glass  this  minute. 
'Ere  's  the  hopera  and  the  pantermine  come  to  Lar- 
kin's  yard.  See  our  niece!  Standin'  there  like  a 
dressed-up,  wicked  stattey  in  pink  and  silver.  It 's 
a  ballet  gal  we  've  been  edicating  all  them  years  as 
Sam's  darter." 

"  Where  's  she  goin'  ?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Muzzey, 
as  she  fingered  the  cloak  and  the  trimming  in  aston- 
ishment "  It 's  Cinderella  Larkin." 

"  And  glass  slippers  is  poor  shoein',"  said  Mrs. 
Bleeks,  pulling  at  the  slippers  in  Dorothy's  hands,  as 
if  to  discover  whether  they  were  really  made  of  glass. 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  17 

"  They  're  white  satin,"  replied  Dorrie,  quickly, 
"  and  you  should  know  something  about  that  article." 

"  Imperance !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bleeks. 

At  this  Mr.  Larkin  laughed  with  great  heartiness, 
lifting  his  hands  and  shaking  his  sides,  and  then 
leaning  against  the  door-post  for  support 

"  That 's  a  settler,  Mary  Anne,"  he  said.  "  That 
is." 

"  Impident  gal,"  said  Mrs.  Muzzey. 

"  It  ain't  respeckable  speakin'  to  a  hant  like  that," 
observed  Mrs.  Bleeks ;  "  and  I  've  been  a  good  hant, 
too." 

"  ~Not  better  nor  me,"  interposed  Mrs.  Muzzey. 

"  I  ain't  affronted,"  continued  Mrs.  Bleeks,  in  a 
manner  which  betrayed  that  she  was  very  affronted 
indeed ;  "  but  I  ax  you,  Sam,  if  gals  was  allowed 
to  talk  in  sich  ways  in  the  herly  days  of  Queen 
Wictoria?  There  ain't  no  reverence  now.  As  if  a 
ole  party  like  me  don't  need  a  dram  of  white  satin 
to  keep  me  warm,  let  alone  that  I  'm  her  hant.  But 
I  won't  be  her  hant  any  more.  I  'm  as  good  a  woman 
as  ever  walked  in  two  shoes.  All  abaht  a  toothful 
o'  gin.  If  Sam  says  I  'm  to  go  to-morrer  I  '11  go. 
I  'm  not  afeared  to  make  a  livin'  on  the  streets. 
Bleeks  drove  a  'bus.  I  can  drive  a  barrer." 

"  Go  to  blazes,"  said  Mr.  Larkin. 

"  I  knows  wot  things  belongs,"  declared  Mrs. 
Bleeks,  while,  owing  to  her  exertions,  the  white  hand- 


18  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

kerchief  was  gradually  slipping  upwards  so  that  her 
right  eye  was  now  visible.  "  I  ain't  been  edicated 
for  nuffin'.  There 's  more  ways  than  one  of  findin' 
a  bekf  ust.  I  'm  no  use  in  the  yard,  I  s'pose.  No  ? 
Ole  folks  has  got  ter  go.  .Well,  I  '11  face  it.  I  '11 
go  the  whole  biling!  " 

"  Woa,  Mary  Anne,"  said  her  brother.  "  Keep 
yer  turban  steady,  you  're  talkin'  like  a  nincumpoop. 
.Who  's  askin'  of  you  to  go  away  ?  " 

"  Yer  darter,  Sam,"  replied  Mrs.  Bleeks,  with 
dignity  and  sarcasm ;  "  'er  as  I  've  edicated  and 
brought  up  as  my  own,  'er  as  is  goin'  to  break  yer 
'eart  with  that  there  wariegated  tinsel.  She  's  been 
spendin'  yer  money  at  the  sales  and  been  larnin'  like 
one  of  them  ballet  gals  to  touch  'er  nose  with  'er 
knees  and  scratch  'er  'ead  with  'er  feet." 

But  Dorrie  had  turned  her  back  upon  her  aunts, 
and  in  a  coaxing  voice  was  offering  an  explanation  to 
Mr.  Larkin. 

Mrs.  Bleeks  and  Mrs.  Muzzey  counted  upon  wit- 
nessing an  angry  scene  between  the  two.  It  was 
twelve  years  since  the  widows  had  descended  upon 
their  brother,  after  his  wife  had  died,  and  when 
Dorrie  was  only  five  years  old.  They  established 
themselves  in  his  house,  and  decided  never  to  allow 
him  to  re-marry.  But  now  when  Dorrie  was  on  the 
threshold  of  womanhood  there  were  signs  of  coming 
trouble.  Hitherto,  Sam  had  acquiesced  in  the  policy 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  19 

of  repression,  and  as  he  seemed  to  hesitate  to  allow 
his  daughter  to  go  to  Jellini's  the  aunts  were  hopeful 
of  victory  again.  Mrs.  Muzzey  looked  out  at  the 
door  and  saw  the  cab  and  Swening  on  the  box,  and 
"  Audacity "  stamping  and  pawing  the  ground. 
Then  she  nudged  Mrs.  Bleeks  and  whispered 
something. 

"  I  agrees  with  you,  Liza,"  said  Mrs.  Bleeks ;  "  she 
takes  arter  'er  mother." 

Whether  it  was  this  thrust  at  his  dead  wife  which 
finally  caused  Larkin  to  support  his  daughter,  or 
whether  he  had  grown  suddenly  rebellious  under 
the  tyranny  of  his  sisters,  is  not  certain,  but  he 
turned  sharply  upon  them  both  and  told  them  to 
mind  their  own  business.  Both  were  astounded, 
and  Mrs.  Bleeks's  handkerchief  at  last  slipped 
from  her  head.  As  she  untied  the  knots  she 
looked  indignantly  at  her  brother,  and  then  ad- 
dressed her  sister. 

"  Liza,"  she  began,  "  this  is  wot  they  calls  hock- 
eylar  proof.  Time  's  up,  and  they  means  us  both 
to  go." 

"  I  '11  pack  to-night,"  said  Mrs.  Muzzey,  with  a 
show  of  independence. 

"  Be  reasonable,  Liza  and  Mary  Anne,"  urged 
Larkin.  "  You  both  lamed  to  dance  when  you  were 
like  Dorrie." 

"  I  hope  I  was  never  like  them,  father,"  retorted 


20  THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

Dorrie,  in  great  style,  and  drawing  the  pink  cloak 
more  closely  about  her. 

"  My  word,  she  cuts  it  fat,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bleeks, 
while  for  the  first  time  Mrs.  Muzzey  began  to  fear 
her  niece. 

"  You  should  n't  put  a  rope  halter  on  an  unbroken 
colt,"  observed  Larkin,  looking  timidly  at  his  sisters, 
but  patting  his  Dorrie.  "  You  should  never  pull  a 
colt  into  a  stable.  That 's  what  the  trainers  say,  and 
children  's  like  colts,  that 's  what  I  says." 

"  I  'm  curious  to  know  who  hinvited  her  to  Jel- 
lini's,"  inquired  Mrs.  Bleeks,  whose  natural  inquisi- 
tiveness  for  the  moment  got  the  better  of  her  other 
feelings. 

"  It  was  Sir  John  Marduke,"  replied  Dorrie,  ad- 
dressing her  father,  however,  and  turning  her  back 
on  her  aunts.  "  Sir  John  Marduke  's  the  patron  of 
Jellini's.  I  've  been  going  for  lessons  regularly,  fa- 
ther, and  I  meant  to  tell  you,  but  I  was  frightened. 
To-night  there  's  to  be  a  pupils'  ball,  and  they  say 
Sir  John  Marduke  and  his  family  are  perhaps  to  be 
there." 

"Sir  John  Marduke?"  asked  Larkin.  "  Him 
that 's  giving  the  free  dinners  in  Marylebone  and 
St  Pancras  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Dorrie. 

"  That  great  gent  ? "  demanded  Mrs.  Bleeks* 
"  The  filthyanthropist  ?  " 


THE    OLD   DASTCE   MASTER  21 

"  My  stars  and  garters,  we  're  haristocrats  now, 
Mary  Anne,"  sneered  Mrs.  Muzzey ;  "  our  niece 
won't  look  at  us." 

"  She  '11  cut  us,  Liza,"  replied  Mrs.  Bleeks.  "  But 
says  I,  I  ain't  affronted." 

"  Father,"  implored  Dorrie,  moving  towards  the 
door,  "  it  'a  getting  late.  By  this  time  they  've 
started  at  Jellini's." 

"  All  right,"  said  Larkin,  escorting  his  daughter 
proudly  to  the  cab.  "  Enjoy  yourself,  my  pippin." 

"  Imperance !  "  cried  Mrs.  Bleeks  again,  as  she 
lifted  her  stick  in  an  angry  gesture. 

"  She  wants  a  sodger,"  said  Mrs.  Muzzey. 

"  It 's  a  nuss  she  needs,"  said  Mrs.  Bleeks. 

"  Will  we  wave  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Muzzey,  while  they 
watched  the  owner  of  the  pink  cloak  being  bundled 
into  the  hansom. 

"  In  coorse  not,"  replied  Mrs.  Bleeks,  vigorously, 
while  she  stuffed  her  handkerchief  into  her  pocket. 
"  Oh,  you  're  a  weak  un,  Liza,  allus  givin'  in." 

"  Bring  her  back,"  Larkin  was  saying  to  Swening. 

Swefling,  who  was  in  no  particular  need  of  such 
instructions,  but  who  was  eager  to  start,  nodded, 
loosened  the  straps  that  controlled  the  cab's  front  win- 
dows, and  allowed  the  glass  to  close  down  with  a  snap. 
Then  with  a  glance  atTthe  witeh-like  figures  stand- 
ing on  the  lighted  threshold,  he  spoke  a  word  to 
"  Audacity  "  and  the  cab  cleared  the  yard. 


22  THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

As  Swefling  turned  into  Tottenham.  Court  Road 
from  Euston  Road,  at  the  crowded  corner  where  the 
'buses  halt,  the  trap  door  on  the  roof  of  the  cab  was 
suddenly  opened,  and  there  appeared  a  little  white 
hand  which  the  driver  devoutly  pressed.  Then  when 
it  was  withdrawn  he  peered  down  the  opening,  and 
saw  Dorothy  looking  up  and  laughing  very  gleefully. 
The  lamp  fixed  behind  was  shining  full  on  her  face, 
and  her  eyes  and  her  teeth  were  dazzling  in  the  light 
of  it,  while  a  wreath  of  her  dark  hair  peeped  from 
under  the  pink  hood. 

"  Swef,"  she  called  up,  "  don't  hang  about  in  the 
cold.  It  is  cold  to-night.  Go  back  to  the  yard,  and 
get  supper  somewhere  like  a  good  boy,  and  come  back 
for  me  at  eleven." 

"  I  'm  jiggered,"  he  replied,  "  if  your  aunts  are  n't 
a  pair  of  old  hard  mouths.  Was  Mrs.  Bleeks 
slewed?" 

"  Never  mind  them,"  said  Dorothy. 

Angry  cries  from  a  'bus  driver,  a  van-man,  and  a 
policeman  were  suddenly  heard,  and  a  triple  collision 
was  with  difficulty  averted. 

Swefling,  too  intent  on  the  conversation,  had  been 
driving  to  the  common  danger.  He  had  never  yet 
been  summoned,  and  it  was  lucky  that  in  the  present 
case  the  constable  and  he  happened  to  be  old  friends. 
The  trap-door  was  suddenly  closed,  and  a  gentle  touch 
on  the  left  rein  brought  "  Audacity  "  and  the  cab  into 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER          23 

the  proper  position.  Jellini's  was  now  in  sight,  and  a 
swarm  of  coated,  cloaked,  and  hooded  and  hatless 
dancers  of  both  sexes  was  observed  entering  the  hall 
under  the  glass  canopy.  Swelling  drew  up  where  a 
tall  man  in  uniform  was  standing,  and  Dorothy 
alighted  like  a  butterfly. 

"  Eleven,"  she  said  with  a  smile,  and  then  walked 
towards  the  entrance. 

But  here  again  Swefling  incurred  the  wrath  and  the 
frown  of  a  policeman  because,  in  order  to  watch  the 
pink  cloak  disappearing,  he  did  not  drive  away  quickly 
enough.  There  were  about  four  hours  until  eleven 
o'clock,  and  so  he  drove  to  the  Apollo  Tavern.  He 
engaged  the  waterman  on  the  rank  close  by  to  look 
after  "  Audacity  "  and  the  cab,  and  he  went  in  for 
supper.  When  he  came  out  it  was  nearly  eight  by  a 
clock  in  Oxford  Street,  and  there  was  a  chance  of 
earning  some  shillings  before  it  would  be  time  to  re- 
turn to  Jellini's.  The  pavements  were  aglow  with 
the  lamps  and  alive  with  walkers.  It  was  a  clear, 
starry  January  night,  and  the  roadway  was  glossy 
with  the  rolling,  rolling  of  the  wheels.  As  Swefling 
went  along  Oxford  Street  and  turned  into  Regent 
Street  at  a  gentle  trot,  the  bells  of  "  Audacity's " 
bridle  seemed  never  to  have  jingled  so  merrily. 


CHAPTEE    SECOKD 

MB.  MONTY  MAEDUKE  had  decided  to  sacrifice  an 
evening  to  his  father's  whims.  But  the  truth  was 
that  he  was  going  with  high  curiosity  to  Jellini's 
on  the  chance,  and  at  the  risk,  of  seeing  a  pretty 
girl.  At  least,  his  sister  Minnie,  who  knew  him, 
considered  that  it  was  a  risk,  and  she  had  never 
pressed  him  to  show  any  interest  in  that  part  of 
their  father's  great  social  schemes.  Monty,  however, 
declared  that  he  meant  to  go,  and  he  dressed  himself 
with  his  usual  care  as  if  he  had  been  going  to  the 
Dowager  Duchess  of  Berkshire's  box  at  the  opera. 
It  was  freely  whispered  that  the  dowager  had  an  in- 
fatuation for  him,  and  a  paragraph  announcing  their 
approaching  marriage  had  appeared  in  one  of  the 
newspapers.  Monty  telegraphed  an  emphatic  con- 
tradiction, and  lately  he  had  not  been  so  often  seen 
in  her  company.  She  was  an  original  and  very  viva- 
cious old  woman,  and  he  liked  her,  but  as  for  marry- 
ing her —  The  dowager,  bent  on  annoying  her 
heirs,  continued  to  send  invitations  to  him,  but  he 
hated  ridicule,  and  decided  not  to  go  to  the  opera 
that  night.  In  the  course  of  a  conversation  carried 
on  by  means  of  the  telephone  she  told  hi:n  that  she 

24 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTEK  25 

refused  to  accept  his  refusal,  that  she  expected  to 
see  him  in  her  box  if  not  at  dinner,  and  that  being 
a  man  he  should  not,  could  not,  would  not  care  a 
straw  for  the  childish,  the  disgusting  tittle-tattle. 
When  he  expressed  his  regret,  he  heard  her  ironical 
incredulous  sexagenarian  laugh  running  along  the 
wire  to  him. 

"They're  playing  *  Aida '  to-night;  you  must 
come,  Monty,"  urged  the  voice. 

"  My  dear  Duchess,  my  father  has.  asked  me  to 
show  some  interest  in  one  of  his  latest  fads.  He 
says  that  he 's  going  to  take  me  to  see  the  little 
boys  and  girls  of  Marylebone  and  St.  Pancras  dance, 
dance,  dance !  " 

"  Ridiculous !  Tell  Sir  John  that  he  has  spent 
quite  enough." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  always  telling  him  that" 

"  He  fs  being  led  the  dance,"  said  the  dowager. 

"  Yes,  indeed.  But  he  won't  listen.  '  Pray,  forgive 
me,  then,  if  I  don't  come  to-night,"  replied  Monty. 

"  Where  is  this  place  ?  " 

"  Jellini's,  Tottenham  Court  Road!  " 

"Really,  you  know!  It  sounds  like  a  mauvaise 
plaisanterie.  Good-bye,  then,  Monty." 

He  placed  the  receiver  on  the  pedestal,  and  sat 
down  on  one  of  the  spacious  chairs  in  his  father's 
smoke-room.  But  he  was  scarcely  seated  when  the 
telephone  bell  was  ringing  furiously. 


26  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

"  I  '11  expect  you  at  nine,"  said  the  dowager,  while 
her  faint  laugh  reverberated  along  the  wire  again. 

"  I  'm  very  sorry,  but  it  is  n't  possible,  Duchess," 
he  replied,  and  she  heard  the  words  quite  clearly. 

"  What  ?  Are  you  there  ?  I  say  I  shall  expect 
you  at.  nine." 

"  I  very  greatly  regret  — "  he  began,  but  was 
interrupted  by  the  sounds  in  the  receiver.  "  What  ? 
Are  you  there  ?  " 

"  Is  this  the  truth,  Monty  ?  "  she  was  asking. 

"  Duchess,  the  way  to  mislead  people  nowadays  is 
to  speak  the  truth,"  he  replied. 

"  Then  you  wish  to  mislead  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Not  in  the  least,  not  in  the  least !  "  he  said, 
laughing.  "  It 's  this  —  " 

But  he  found  himself  suddenly  switched  off. 
Perhaps,  he  thought,  the  Duchess  had  gone  away  in 
a  temper.  He  held  the  line  for  a  minute,  but  heard 
only  the  vague  echo,  far-off  hum  and  buzz  of  mes- 
sages hurrying  up  and  down  the  myriad  wires.  Then 
he  readjusted  the  instrument,  swore  mildly,  and  was 
in  his  chair  again. 

He  was  a  young  man  of  twenty-four,  with  the 
air  of  a  soldier,  tall,  dark,  clean-shaven,  well-formed, 
and,  therefore,  accounted  handsome.  Frequent  ad- 
miration was  expressed  for  his  eyes,  which  were 
very  intelligent,  and  had  no  guile  in  them  at  all. 
Now  and  again,  however,  they  had  a  roguish  look 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  27 

as  if  to  warn  friends,  and  perhaps  fools,  that  the 
tricks  and  pranks  of  boyhood  were  not  so  very  long 
ago  laid  aside.  He  and  his  sister  Minnie  had  been 
curiously  educated,  and  they  knew  early  that  not 
all  of  their  father's  immense  wealth  was  being  re- 
served for  them.  Sir  John  Marduke  used  to  arrange 
his  entertainments  to  the  poor  in  such  a  way  and  at 
such  dates  that  they  would  clash  with  some  party 
at  a  great  house  to  which  his  son  and  daughter  had 
been  invited,  and  he  frequently  compelled  them  to 
choose  the  humbler  ceremony.  He  declared  himself 
pleased  when  on  one  occasion  Monty  and  Minnie 
seemed  voluntarily  to  prefer  a  tea-party  in  Soho  to 
a  dance  in  Portman  Square.  The  truth  was  that 
with  the  unconscious  diplomacy  of  childhood  and 
with  its  naive  hypocrisy  they  were  only  attempting 
to  appease  irresistible  power  because  they  knew  that 
willy-nilly  they  would  be  marched  to  Soho.  Never- 
theless, it  became  a  habit  with  them  to  feel  at  home 
in  both  worlds,  and  to  find  amusement  in  scenes  from 
which  persons  of  their  own  class  turned  instinctively 
away.  They  inherited  charitable  instincts,  and  there 
was  nothing  of  condescension,  nothing  whatever  of 
priggishness,  in  their  sympathy  for  less  fortunate 
people.  But  the  baronet  was  warned  of  the  dangers 
of  his  experiment.  If  Monty  were  taught,  and  if 
he  accepted  as  true,  the  erroneous  doctrine  that  all 
human  beings  are  equal,  there  might  be  trouble  ahead, 


28  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

when  he  came  to  choose  a  wife.  At  what  precise 
limit  did  Sir  John's  fellowship  with  the  lower  orders 
stop?  It  was  wrong  to  remove  the  proper  barrier 
which  separated  the  social  classes.  Or  rather  there 
was  no  use  attempting  to  remove  it.  Democracy 
cannot  walk  in  pumps,  nor  aristocracy  in  hob-nail 
boots  —  except  when  shooting.  To  tell  the  truth, 
Monty  was  heartily  bored  by  the  whole  discussion. 
What  is  authentic  of  his  early  youth  is,  that  once 
in  Oxford  Street  on  a  windy  day,  when  he  saw 
a  greasy,  bespattered  dustman  vainly  struggling  to 
thrust  an  arm  into  the  filthiest  of  imaginable  coats, 
Monty  stopped  to  hold  the  coat  for  him.  This  trivial 
act,  done  in  the  full  glare  of  publicity  in  daylight, 
was  judged  to  be  a  pose.  It  was  suggested  that  Mr. 
Marduke  was  going  to  stand  for  Parliament,  and  was 
hunting  for  votes  even  among  the  dustbins.  But  this 
explanation  only  moved  him  to  laughter  and  con- 
tempt. Likewise,  when  during  an  Oxford  vacation 
he  marched  twenty  sandwich  men  into  a  certain  res- 
taurant, and  afterwards  compelled  each  of  them  to 
make  a  speech,  he  did  it  for  a  joke,  and  was  only 
caricaturing  his  father's  philanthropy.  He  really 
liked  working  men,  however,  and  had  many  friends 
among  them.  He  was  a  generous  youth,  and  in  the 
midst  of  great  crowds,  at  great  moments,  he  felt 
the  electric  chords  and  cords  which  bind  us  all  to- 
gether. Apparently  in  one  respect  at  least  Sir  John's 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER  29 

experiment  had  succeeded.  His  son's  sympathies 
were  quickly  ignited,  his  emotions  soon  ablaze. 
Hence  those  liberal  opinions  for  which  he  was  re- 
buked when  he  was  a  lieutenant  in  the  Twenty 

Lancers. 

But  if  the  son  was  gay  the  father  was  grave, 
indeed.  It  was  certainly  odd  that  Sir  John  Marduke 
seemed  always  to  be  apologising  for  his  existence, 
because  in  the  eye  of  the  world  he  was  not  only  a 
very  good,  but  a  very  fortunate  man.  Like  his  son, 
he  was  tall,  and  if  he  had  so  chosen  he  might  have 
assumed  a  very  haughty  air,  because  his  features  were 
of  the  imperious,  don't-look-at-me  sort  But  there  was 
something  unostentatious  even  in  his  white  moustache, 
which  drooped  and  had  nothing  of  that  upturned 
defiant  attitude  characteristic  of  the  moustaches  of 
military  and  ex-military  officers.  He  had  fought 
gloriously  in  India,  but  that  was  long  ago.  His 
medals  were  hidden  away  and  forgotten,  and  he  ap- 
peared to  be  the  perfect  type  of  a  perfect  London 
citizen.  His  butler,  his  footman,  his  chauffeur,  the 
captain  of  his  fine  steam  yacht,  his  coachman,  his 
carriage  groom,  had  each  great  airs  and  looked  im- 
portant, but  Sir  John's  desire  was  to  slip  through  the 
world  observant,  but  unobserved.  The  servants  in 
the  great  house  in  Portland  Place,  from  Riggs  the 
butler  and  Mrs.  Batsby  the  housekeeper  down  to 
the  humblest  of  the  kitchen-maids,  worshipped  Sir 


30  THE    OLD    DANCE   MASTER 

John.  His  name,  too,  was  a  kind  of  evangel  in  many 
of  the  gloomier  streets.  He  had  a  pale,  mild,  grey 
eye,  which  seemed  to  look  for  sympathy,  and  in 
which,  and  out  of  which,  human  sympathy  certainly 
shone.*  He  was  never  seen  with  a  florid  countenance, 
and  this  habitual  pallor  increased  the  general  refine- 
ment and  distinction  of  his  person.  But  great  wealth, 
a  title  tolerably  ancient,  if  the  multitude  of  recent 
honours  be  considered,  the  very  fine  mansion  in  Port- 
land Place,  the  love  and  respect  of  his  son  and  of 
his  daughter,  the  soothing  recollection  that  he  had 
been  the  devoted  husband  of  a  devoted  wife,  a  repu- 
tation for  almost  reckless  charity  —  thousands  upon 
thousands  having  been  given  away  —  all  this  ap- 
peared to  bring  no  genuine  contentment  to  his  heart. 
He  steadily  refused  to  stand  for  Parliament,  al- 
though invitations  had  been  numerous,  and  although 
safe  seats  had  been  assured  him.  A  peerage  had  been 
offered  as  a  fitting  reward  of  so  much  well-doing, 
but  he  declined  the  distinction  with  sincere  repug- 
nance and  disdain.  It  was  difficult  to  believe  that 
he  could  have  worries.  It  is  true  that  Monty  had 
been  sent  down  from  Oxford  as  a  result  of  some 
youthful  follies.  It  is  also  true  that  Monty's  rest- 
less disposition  made  him  abandon  the  Army  as  well 
as  Oxford.  But  these  things  did  not  worry  Sir  John. 
Monty's  little  indiscretions  had  hitherto  been  of  the 
rollicking,  innocent  sort,  and  had  been  judged  to  be 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  31 

the  mere  overflow  of  high  spirits.  In  fact,  Sir  John 
was  secretly  pleased  to  be  the  father  of  so  great  a 
favourite,  an  open-hearted,  open-handed  youth,  who 
accepted  in  a  sober  way  the  great  gifts  of  fortune. 

Arabella,  Duchess  of  Berkshire,  was  at  the  tele- 
phone again. 

"  Well,"  she  was  saying,  "  you  have  thought  it 
over?  Of  course  you  are  coming." 

"  Really,  Duchess,  I  don't  like  to  disappoint  you, 
but  I  promised  the  governor.  He  says  I  take  no 
interest  in  his  tremendous  schemes,  you  know.  He 
specially  asked  me  to  reserve  to-night  for  these 
wretched  infants  of  Marylebone  and  St.  Pancras. 
We  are  even  dining  earlier  in  order  to  go  there." 

"  What  ?  I  don't  hear.  Are  you  there  2  "  came 
the  voice. 

"  Why,  yes.  I  'm  saying  that  I  'm  very  sorry  not 
to  be  able  to  come  to-night,"  he  replied. 

"  Then  I  '11  come  to  Jellini's.  Is  that  the  name  ?  " 
asked  the  Duchess. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  — "  Monty  began,  but 
found  himself  suddenly  disconnected. 

After  a  few  fruitless  "  Are  you  theres  ? "  he  re- 
placed the  receiver,  and  went  in  to  dinner. 

About  an  hour  and  a  quarter  later  Monty  and  his 
father  were  in  the  library,  which  was  a  very  large 
and  lofty  room  stored  with  books.  In  the  two  great 
fireplaces  great  fires  were  burning,  one  at  one  end 


32 

of  the  room  and  the  other  at  the  other;  the  rich  red 
flames  were  singing  a  chorus  up  the  chimneys.  The 
heavy  Eastern  carpet,  which  had  been  specially 
woven,  the  dark  red  curtains  which  draped  the  six 
windows,  the  comfortable  reading-chairs  and  desks, 
the  electric  lamps  which  shed  a  subdued  and  mellow 
light  throughout  the  apartment,  the  famous  old 
French  clock,  Louis  Quatorze,  one  or  two  admirable 
busts  in  bronze  and  marble  —  these  and  the  splendid 
editions  of  the  books,  combined  to  produce  a  sense 
of  modern  elegance  and  leisure  and  ease.  Sir  John 
Marduke  and  his  son  were  standing  opposite  the 
fireplace  which  was  farther  from  the  door,  and  they 
were  snipping  their  cigars,  and  preparing  to  light 
them. 

"  There 's  something  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about, 
Monty,"  said  Sir  John. 

"  Is  it  about  Jellini's  ?  "  asked  Monty. 

"  No,"  said  Sir  John,  as  he  turned  to  look  at  the 
French  porcelain  clock,  "  we  '11  arrive  there  in  good 
time.  I  promised  old  Habenichts.  I  'm  glad  that 
you  're  coming,  you  have  n't  been  once  yet,  and  it 's 
really  pleasant  to  watch  them  enjoying  themselves." 

He  sat  down  on  one  of  the  big  chairs,  and  his  son 
sat  in  another. 

"  About  the  dowager  ?  "  asked  Monty,  smiling. 

"  No,"  said  his  father,  gravely,  as  he  looked  at 
him,  "  I  trust  to  your  own  common  sense.  I  think 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER          33 

that  she  is  a  very  original,  kind-hearted,  and  inter- 
esting old  woman,  but  rather  eccentric.  You  con- 
tradicted that  foolish  report  about  her  and  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  telegraphed,"  said  Monty. 

At  this  moment  Riggs  followed  by  a  footman 
entered  with  the  coffee. 

"  No,  thank  you,  Riggs,"  said  Sir  John. 

"  I  don't  want  it  either,"  said  Monty,  crossing 
his  legs. 

After  the  men  had  gone  away  Sir  John  Marduke 
drew  his  chair  nearer. 

"  Well,  it 's  this,"  he  began.  "  You  '11  perhaps  be 
surprised !  I  'm  going  to  destroy  our  coat  of  arms." 

He  waited  to  see  the  effect  on  his  son,  who,  how- 
ever, merely  contracted  his  brows  slightly,  as  if  to 
indicate  that  he  expected  to  be  bored  by  the  con- 
versation. 

"  Yes.  I  have  decided  on  it  I  once  mentioned 
it  to  your  poor  mother,"  continued  Sir  John. 

"  And  she  approved  ?  "  asked  Monty. 

"  She  understood  and  sympathised  as  you  might 
expect.  She  had  too  fine  a  taste  not  to.  I  hope 
that  you  and  Minnie  will  also  see  the  necessity,  but 
I  speak  to  you  first  since  the  title  descends  to  you. 
I  only  reproach  myself  for  having  delayed  so  long." 

"  That 's  what  I  was  just  going  to  say,"  observed 
Monty;  "your  friends  will  think  that  the  discovery 
has  taken  you  a  long  time." 


34  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

"  Yes.  I  agree.  We  should  have  dropped  it  long 
ago.  I  have  always  winced  when  I  have  had  to 
use  that  seal,  and  I  have  used  it  as  seldom  as  pos- 
sible. I  would  n't  allow  them  to  put  our  crest  on  the 
carriage  or  the  motor,  and  none  of  the  silver  on 
which  it  is  stamped  and  which  it  defaces  so  horribly 
will  ever  appear  again  on  my  table.  Just  think  of 
it !  "  exclaimed  Sir  John,  rising  and  walking  up  and 
down.  "  Two  chained  negroes,  and  a  slave  ship 
below.  These  are  our  armorial  bearings  in  the  twen- 
tieth century.  Of  course  they  don't  lie.  They  make 
no  pretence  to  brave  deeds.  They  announce  in  plain 
terms  to  the  whole  world  the  origin  of  my  wealth. 
It  was  my  great-great-grandfather,  the  builder  of  the 
slave  ships,  when  this  country  possessed  slave  col- 
onies, who  chose  this  hideous  piece  of  heraldry,  when 
the  title  was  conferred  upon  him.  I  have  traced 
every  farthing  of  our  capital  to  its  source,  and  I 
find  that,  except  for  some  four  thousand  pounds, 
every  farthing  was  wrung  out  of  our  family's  slave 
plantations  in  Jamaica  and  Demerara,  and  from  the 
fleet  of  slave  ships." 

"  What  about  Lady  Holland  2  "  asked  Monty.  "  She 
had  seven  or  eight  thousand  a  year  which  came  to  her 
from  slave  plantations.  And  the  Gladstones?  Mr. 
Gladstone's  father  owned  slaves.  If  Gladstone  was 
sent  to  Eton  and  Oxford,  and  set  up  in  public  life,  it 
was  because  his  father  could  afford  it,  and  he  could 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  35 

afford  it  because  he  had  large  interests  in  the  slave 
plantations  in  the  West  Indies  and  in  Demerara. 
Governor,  if  you  asked  about  the  origin  of  half  of  the 
modern  wealth,  and  about  the  ownership  of  land,  you 
would  find  the  sources  just  as  tainted  as  I  suppose 
they  were  in  our  own  case." 

"  It  makes  the  problem  all  the  more  disquieting," 
observed  Sir  John.  "  Our  family  were  making  about 
£100,000  a  year  towards  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  We  even  gained  enormously  by  the  aboli- 
tion. By  the  Bill  of  1833  we  received  on  an  average 
nineteen  pounds  per  head  for  each  slave.  Well,  we 
had  in  all  50,000  slaves  scattered  over  the  West  Indies, 
and  thereby  we  got  nearly  a  million  sterling.  Then 
there  were  vast  profits  on  the  sugar  and  on  the  land 
when  it  came  into  the  market." 

Sir  John  stopped.  His  eyes  were  glittering  with 
excitement  It  was  evident  that  his  idea  had  full 
possession  of  him,  and  gave  him  no  rest. 

"Well?  "asked  his  son. 

"  Well,  when  I  look  round  on  all  we  possess,  on  all 
this,"  said  Sir  John,  pointing  to  the  room,  "  when  I 
think  of  our  comfort,  our  luxury,  when  I  give  a  dia- 
mond necklace  to  Minnie,  or  a  motor  car  to  you,  or  an 
expensive  present  to  a  young  married  couple,  when  I 
think  about  all  these  things  and  our  social  position, 
our  title  even,  our  great  privileges  in  society,  which 
have  been  made  possible  because  two  or  three  genera- 


36  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

tions  ago  thousands  of  slaves  were  captured  for  our 
service  and  perished  in  it,  I  have  a  most  uncomfort- 
able, a  ghastly  sort  of  feeling,  Monty." 

The  young  man  looked  earnestly  and  anxiously  at 
his  father.  Was  it  that  the  conscience  of  the  family 
which  had  been  slumbering  during  three  generations 
was  at  last  awake  in  Sir  John  ? 

"  It 's  not  your  fault  that  the  money  was  made  in 
that  way,"  said  Monty. 

"  While  we  are  rolling  in  plenty,  and  when  I  see 
your  name  and  Minnie's  in  the  society  news,  and  when 
I  watch  the  parasites  who  have  grown  round  you,  I 
can't  help  thinking  of  those  countless  men,  women, 
and  children  of  Africa,  without  whom  there  would 
have  been  no  Marduke  money,  and  no  Marduke  baro- 
netcy. For  it  is  perfectly  plain  that  it  was  for  polit- 
ical services  which  his  wealth  made  possible  that  my 
great-great-grandfather  received  the  title." 

"  It 's  the  Congo  business,  the  recent  outrages  by 
the  Belgians,  that  have  put  all  this  in  your  head 
again,"  suggested  Monty. 

"  Perhaps,"  replied  his  father^  "  but  it 's  been  in 
my  head  a  long  time;  ever  since,  as  a  soldier,  I  be- 
gan to  think  about  might  and  right." 

"  The  negroes  whom,  you  say,  slaved  to  make  you 
rich  were  n't  always  badly  treated,"  said  Monty. 
"  They  were  taught  industry  and  regular  habits,  and 
no  doubt  many  of  them,  were  happy." 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  37 

Sir  John  Harduke  took  a  bunch,  of  keys  from  his 
pocket,  and  went  to  open  an  old-fashioned  brass- 
mounted  mahogany  coffer  out  of  which  he  brought 
some  curious  rusty  iron  implements.  He  laid  them 
one  by  one  upon  a  table.  First  there  was  a  pair  of 
handcuffs,  which  had  been  used  in  shackling  the  wrists  <• 
of  African  slaves  on  the  plantations  in  such  a  way 
that  the  right  hand  of  one  man  was  fastened  to  the  left 
hand  of  his  fellow.  A  bolt  and  padlock  were  at- 
tached. Next  came  a  pair  of  fetters  for  the  ankles, 
and  they  were  so  heavy  that  Sir  John  required  to  use 
his  two  hands  to  lift  them.  Then  he  brought  out  a 
thumb-screw  with  a  key  to  turn  the  bars  and  regulate 
the  amount  of  punishment  and  pain  to  be  inflicted  on 
the  victim.  Next  there  was  a  very  formidable-looking 
instrument  for  forcing  open  the  mouths  of  those  slaves 
who  had  decided  to  starve  themselves  to  death.  Blood- 
stains almost  a  hundred  years  old  were  visible  on  parts 
of  this  machine.  Then  came  an  ugly  iron  hoop  with  a 
curious  twist  which  had  been  fitted  to  the  necks  of 
fugitive  slaves.  Lastly,  Sir  John  showed  a  portfolio 
containing  engravings  of  the  slave  ships  with  sec- 
tions in  which  the  slaves  were  seen  lying  packed 
together  like  herrings.  Monty  asked  the  meaning 
of  it  all. 

"  These,"  said  his  father,  "  were  the  means  by 
which  long  ago  the  fortune  which  founded  our  fam- 
ily was  made.  I  have  never  shown  them  to  you  or 


38  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

to  any  one.  Some  night  I  intend  to  fling  them  into 
the  river.  They  often  keep  me  from  sleeping." 

"  Father,"  urged  Monty,  "  all  this  is  getting  on 
yonr  brain.  Nothing  that  you  can  do  now  can  alter 
the  past." 

"  We  can  expiate  it,  Monty.  That  is  the  real 
reason  why  I  have  given  so  much  money  away.  I 
am  called  a  philanthropist.  I  detest  the  name.  In 
my  own  case  it  is  a  sham.  I  am  giving  money 
which  has  accumulated  in  our  family,  but  which 
was  infamously  got.  You  knew  in  a  vague  way 
that  your  immediate  ancestors  possessed  plantations, 
but  you  never  realised  the  infamy  which  lies  behind 
our  family's  history.  Monty,  I  would  like  you  to 
go  into  business." 

"  You  did  not  bring  me  up  to  it,"  replied  Monty. 

"  That  is  true.  That  was  my  error,  but  it  is  not 
too  late.  In  any  case  you  will  not  be  a  very  wealthy 
man,  Monty,"  said  Sir  John  Marduke,  with  a  strange 
glance.  "  I  should  like  you  to  curtail  your  expenses. 
By  the  way,  I  sent  £20,000  for  that  dreadful  mining 
disaster  in  Wales." 

Monty  looked  aghast 

"  And  I  gave  £5000  for  the  Christmas  Dinners.  I 
hope  you  approve  ?  "  inquired  Sir  John. 

"  Where  is  all  this  to  end  ? "  demanded  Monty. 
"  You  're  fast  reducing  yourself  and  us  to  beggary. 
[What 's  to  become  of  Minnie  ?  Supposing  she  wants 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  39 

to  marry?  Supposing  I  want  to  marry?  Do  you 
really  imagine  that  by  giving  all  that  money  away 
in  charity  you  are  doing  any  good  to  the  slaves  who 
were  dead  a  hundred  years  ago  ? " 

"  Certainly  not.  That 's  not  the  question,"  replied 
Sir  John.  "  I  have  simply  been  giving  away  our 
superfluity.  For  myself,  I  could  live  easily  on  my 
army  pension." 

"  By  the  way,  what  is  this  Jellini's  ? "  asked 
Monty. 

"  Well,  I  Ve  been  laughed  at  for  that,  too.  This 
Dancing  Academy  was  dancing  on  its  last  leg,"  said 
Sir  John,  with  humour  unusual  in  him,  "  and  I 
was  asked  to  become  security.  I  made  inquiries,  and 
found  that  it  gave  relaxation  and  healthy  recreation 
to  shop  girls  and  booking  clerks,  and  so  on,  and  that 
it  was  admirably  conducted.  Why  shouldn't  that 
class  enjoy  themselves  of  an  evening  in  that  way? 
They  love  gaiety  as  much  as  you  do.  They  are 
weary  of  being  preached  at,  and  I  know  nothing  more 
important  than  to  teach  them  grace  and  good  man- 
ners, and  the  small  innocent  joys  of  life.  Besides, 
it 's  not  quite  a  charity.  A  small  fee  is  charged.  I 
didn't  want  to  see  it  become  bankrupt  because  the 
boys  and  girls  would  in  that  case  be  tempted  to  find 
amusement  in  more  dangerous  places.  Ah,  here  's 
Minnie.  It 's  time  to  go." 

Minnie  Marduke  entered  the  room,  and  her  resem- 


40  THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

blance  to  her  brother  was  obvious  at  a  glance.  She 
was  two  years  older,  and  although  not  strikingly 
beautiful,  she  was  tall,  dark,  handsome,  and  like  her 
brother,  too,  she  had  charming  eyes.  Her  dress 
was  concealed  by  an  evening  cloak  trimmed  with 
sable,  and  she  wore  a  spray  of  diamonds  in  her  black 
hair.  She  had  the  Marduke  pallor,  there  was  a 
shadow  of  sadness  on  her  face,  and  her  fine  lips  were 
by  no  means  full,  but  had  a  tendency  to  be  compressed 
as  if  their  owner  perpetually  held  herself  in  con- 
trol. The  truth  was  that  Minnie  Marduke  was  in 
love  with  a  man  whom  she  suspected  of  being  at- 
tracted to  her  chiefly  by  her  wealth.  She  was 
haunted  by  this  suspicion  night  and  day,  and  her 
father  knew  it  and  sympathised  with  her.  And  then 
she  had  certain  anxieties  at  home.  Her  father's  ec- 
centricity in  spending  vast  sums  in  charity  —  purg- 
ing the  Marduke  conscience,  he  called  it  —  agitated 
her  as  it  agitated  her  brother,  because  they  did  not 
know  how  the  Marduke  fortune  was  able  to  stand 
the  strain  and  drain.  But  she  took  a  willing  part 
in  his  endless  projects,  although  her  prudence  many 
a  time  saved  him  from  the  wiles  of  needy  and  dan- 
gerous adventurers.  She  felt  the  pathos  of  his  at- 
tempt to  revindicate  the  Marduke  name.  Yet  the 
world  would  care  very  little  about  the  matter,  and 
unless  he  had  spoken  of  it  might  never  have  guessed 
the  origin  of  the  family's  wealth.  And  she  looked 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER          41 

•with  alarm  on  a  form  of  generosity  which  was  fast 
developing  into  a  passion,  and  on  a  self-sacrifice 
which  had  something  fanatical  and  almost  demoni- 
acal in  it.  Of  all  the  manifestations  of  his  singular 
warm-heartedness,  his  patronage  of  Jellini's  was  the 
latest  and  the  most  bizarre.  But  she  looked  on  with 
a  humorous  tolerance,  and  was  annoyed  only  when 
she  heard  that  Monty  proposed  to  be  present  at  the 
pupils'  ball. 

"  Don't  come,"  she  said,  while  Riggs  was  holding 
the  baronet's  coat  in  the  hall.  "  You  '11  be  bored 
to  death,  Monty." 

"  After  all  that  he  has  been  saying,  I  admit  I  'm 
not  in  much  of  a  mood,  old  girl,"  said  Monty.  "  The 
latest  is  that  the  coat  of  arms  is  going  to  be  des- 
troyed. I  'm  hanged  if  I  care,  for  it 's  hideous 
enough." 

The  brother  and  sister  exchanged  significant 
glances. 

"  Old  girl,"  continued  Monty,  "  you  should  take 
off  that  cloak  and  these  diamonds.  Never  wear 
silk  stockings  any  more.  Put  off  all  your  fine  furs, 
your  lovely  shoes,  your  ancient  lace  and  your  smart 
hats.  Away  with  them!  They  are  taboo." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Minnie. 

"  Why,  he  has  been  raving  away  on  the  old  sub- 
ject." 

"  You  don't  know  how  to  manage  him,"  she  said. 


42  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

"  He  has  sent  £20,000  to  the  Welsh  Mine  Disaster 
Fund  !  and  £5000  for  Christmas  Dinners  !  "  said 
Monty. 

"  I  saw  it  in  the  Times"  replied  Minnie,  shrug- 
ging her  shoulders. 

"  It 's  just  this,  old  girl,  something  must  be  done, 
or  you  and  I  shall  be  beggars,"  replied  Monty. 

"  You  're  not  coming  with  us,"  said  Minnie. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  '11  come." 

They  were  in  the  hall,  and  the  door  was  open, 
and  Sir  John  was  waiting  on  the  steps.  As  the 
three  were  entering  the  motor  car,  the  telephone  bell 
began  ringing. 

"  It  Js  her  Grace,  sir,"  said  Riggs,  running  down 
the  steps. 

"  Tell  her,"  said  Monty,  as  the  motor  was  moving, 
"  that  I  Ve  just  gone  out." 


CHAPTER   THIRD 

THERE  was  no  such  person  as  Jellini.  That  was 
the  name  of  an  Italian  dancing  master  who  flour- 
ished in  London  between  1850  and  1860.  Mrs. 
Bleeks  remembered  him  perfectly  well.  But  he  had 
long  ago  danced  his  last  dance,  and  his  mantle  was 
now  worn  by  a  Teutonic  philosopher,  Herr  Habe- 
nichts,  who,  like  Socrates,  had  taken  to  dancing  late 
in  life  and  in  order  to  forget  his  own  troubles.  The 
name  Jellini  was,  however,  so  renowned  and  so  po- 
tent, and  was  believed  to  be  of  such  good  omen, 
that  more  than  one  academy  had  audaciously  adopted 
it.  Above  the  entrance  to  the  rooms  in  Tottenham 
Court  Road  there  was  fixed  a  large  iron  frame, 
holding  these  gilded  letters  of  giant  size  — "  The 
Original  Jellini  Academy  of  Dancing."  And  they 
reappeared  on  the  lapel  of  the  livery  coat  and  round 
the  gold  band  of  the  hat  of  Ridpath  the  porter,  who 
opened  and  closed  the  swing  doors  under  the  glass 
canopy.  Moreover,  those  words  spoke  the  truth. 
The  well-worn  floors  of  the  rooms  in  Tottenham 
Court  Road  had  been  the  actual  stage  upon  which 

Jellini  used  to  strut 

43 


44:          THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

"  Vot  are  you  about  ? "  demanded  Herr  Habe- 
nichts  of  a  young  booking  clerk  of  Euston  Station, 
who  was  creating  confusion  in  a  set  of  the  lancers.  "  I 
say  dat  you  don't  onderstand  the  elementaries.  Dat 
is  not  a  Tour  de  Mains.  You  pull  de  lady  about  as 
if  you  vished  to  shunt  a  train  and  you  vere  de 
engine.  Oh  dear,  oh  dear!  De  light  touch  is  de 
necessity.  First  lady  advance,  one  two,  one  two 
.  .  .  second  gentleman  advance,  one  two,  one  two. 
.  .  .  Now,  gentleman  to  left,  lady  to  right  .  .  . 
salute !  Now,  dere,  retire.  .  .  .  Double  ladies'  chain. 
.  .  .  Oh,  you  are  de  veak  links  of  dis  chain." 

Herr  Habenichts  sat  down  exhausted,  unbuttoned 
his  frock  coat,  searched  his  pockets  for  his  handker- 
chief, and  then  wiped  his  bald  head  with  it.  His 
pupils  were  toiling  through  the  third  figure  of  the 
lancers,  but  their  steps  had  lagged  so  far  behind  the 
music  that  the  piano,  violin,  cornet,  and  double 
bass,  playing  at  the  far  end  of  the  room  were  ready 
to  begin  the  fourth  figure  long  before  the  dancers  had 
taken  up  their  proper  positions  at  the  close  of  the 
third.  The  master  looked  reproachfully  at  his  bun- 
glers, and  scanned  their  animated  perspiring  faces. 
He  was  devoting  an  hour  to  his  more  troublesome 
pupils  to  fortify  them  for  the  ordeal  of  the  ball 
which  was  to  begin  exactly  at  half -past  nine  o'clock. 
On  a  bench  covered  with  red  baize  sat  Miss  Dorothy 
Larkin,  surrounded  by  friends,  who,  like  herself, 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  45 

had  no  longer  any  need  of  instruction  in  square 
dances.  She  had  already  received  a  number  of  com- 
pliments, and  she  informed  some  of  her  admirers  that 
she  was  looking  forward  with  perfect  rapture  to  the 
programme.  In  the  space  unoccupied  by  Herr  Habe- 
nichts' immediate  victims,  a  few  young  men  were 
indulging  in  a  pas  seul  or  a  pirouette ,  and  the  girls 
were  laughing  at  them. 

Herr  Habenichts  clapped  his  hands  to  warn  the 
musicians  to  begin  the  music  for  the  fourth  figure 
in  which  the  novices  found  the  glissade  en  passant 
and  the  balance  specially  formidable. 
.  "  Hey  dere,  move,  slow  fellow !  More  grace,  more 
slide  and  graciosity.  Dis  is  not  a  barn  dance.  My 
heart  is  broke  vith  you.  Dat  's  de  truth,"  said  Herr 
Habenichts. 

While  the  fourth  couple  should  have  been  await- 
ing the  visit  of  the  second  they  had  gone  to  visit 
the  third,  but  the  third  were  already  on  the  move 
to  visit  the  first,  so  that  all  four  met  midway  in 
violent  collision.  With  a  wave  of  his  hand  the  mas- 
ter sent  the  unfortunate  dancers  back  to  their  origi- 
nal positions. 

"  Come  !  "  he  called.  "  Ten  minutes  to  nine. 
Dere  's  no  time  left  Sir  Marduke  to  be  here  at 
half-past.  Vifth  figure,  quick.  Commence  after 
virst  chord.  Now!  Grand  chain.  .  .  .  Virst  couple 
promenade  .  .  .  tird  couple  fall  in  behind  virst 


46  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

.  .  .  vourth  behind  tird  .  .  .  second  in  place.  .  .  . 
So.  .  .  .  Dat's  better.  All  glissade  .  .  .  softly 
.  .  .  well,  dat  goes  ...  Ja  ...  gut  .  .  .  bien 
.  .  .  mon  dieu,  dere!  Now  repeat  ...  So  ... 
Ah,  second  couple  dere!  .  .  .  dat  gentleman,  atten- 
tion .  .  .  nein,  nein!  ...  So  ...  Grand  chain. 
.  .  .  Oh,  sit  down !  " 

Herr  Habenichts  then  intimated  that  there  would 
be  an  interval  of  half  an  hour  which  the  pupils 
might  spend,  if  they  chose,  in  cooling  themselves 
in  the  vestibule  or  in  the  dressing-rooms.  And  while 
the  piano,  violin,  cornet,  and  double  bass  are  return- 
ing, it  will  be  expedient  to  take  the  occasion  to  in- 
form the  reader  in  what  precise  manner  Herr  Habe- 
nichts and  his  academy  came  into  relation  with  Sir 
John  Marduke. 

Of  all  the  broken-down  gentlemen  who  found  their 
way  to  Portland  Place,  old  Habenichts  was  the  most 
interesting.  He  was  a  poor  and  refined  scholar  from 
Vienna,  but  since  he  was  frequently  mistaken  for 
a  German  and  a  spy,  he  encountered  many  obstacles 
in  his  career  in  London.  The  fact  that  his  language 
was  German  formed  damning  evidence  against  him, 
and  he  had  the  misfortune  to  arrive  during  a  scare 
about  the  German  Navy.  "  I  'm  vrom  Vienna,"  he 
said  indignantly,  but  often  in  vain.  He  spent  most 
of  his  time,  however,  in  the  British  Museum,  which 
was  his  Mecca.  During  three  years  he  was  steadily  at 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER          47 

work  in  the  Reading  Room.  He  had  come  to  London 
in  the  hope  of  completing  his  "  History  of  Dancing 
in  all  Ages  and  among  all  Peoples,"  but  the  book 
had  ruined  him,  for  he  could  find  no  person  coura- 
geous enough  to  undertake  its  publication.  It  com- 
prised forty  immense  volumes  in  manuscript.  Having 
engaged  a  man  with  a  barrow,  he  hawked  the  book 
round  the  publishing  offices.  On  one  occasion  he 
succeeded  in  penetrating  into  the  private  room,  the 
inmost  shrine  of  a  well-known  publisher,  and  actually 
deposited  the  forty  volumes  on  the  floor.  The  pub-, 
lisher  sitting  at  his  desk  fixed  his  eye-glass  on  his 
right  eye  and  gazed  at  this  mountain,  and  positively, 
refused  to  have  anything  whatever  to  do  with  it. 
Herr  Habenichts  ventured  to  suggest  that  the  risk 
might  be  undertaken  if  only  the  publisher  would 
have  a  little  faith. 

"  The  best  use,"  replied  the  publisher,  "  to  which 
I  could  put  faith  at  this  moment,  sir,  would  be  to 
recall  that  passage  in  Scripture  which  says  that  if 
we  have  faith  even  as  a  grain  of  musitard  seed 
we  shall  say  to  this  mountain,  '  Be  thou  removed  and 
be  thou  cast  into  the  sea ! ' 

Herr  Habenichts  having  called  up  the  man  who 
drove  the  barrow  ordered  him  to  remove  the  books 
at  once,  for  he  had  no  desire  to  give  offence,  and  with 
a  cheerful  smile  he  bade  the  publisher  adieu.  His 
invariable  maxim  was,  "  De  bad  veather  vill  pass," 


48  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

or  "  De  big  east  vind  not  blow  for  ever  and  ever !  " 
and  he  repeated  the  words  to  himself  when  he  was 
in  the  street  again,  even  although  the  rain  was  pour- 
ing, and  the  wind  blew  his  umbrella  inside  out. 
Among  his  many  projects  was  a  book  to  prove  that 
the  destiny  of  Europe  was  to  form  a  confederation 
of  allied  states  which  would  abolish  war.  Mean- 
time his  own  resources  were  dwindling,  and  it  was 
necessary  to  carry  on  a  kind  of  war  in  order  to  live. 
He  could  not  understand  why  no  one  showed  any 
interest  in  a  work  in  which  he  told  how  they  danced 
in  Babylon  and  Nineveh,  in  Eridu  and  TJr  of  the 
Chaldees,  in  the  ancient  cities  of  India,  in  Cathay, 
in  Tyre  and  Sidon,  in  Thebes,  in  Memphis,  in  Ispa- 
han, Seleucia,  and  Samarcand,  in  Troy,  in  Carthage, 
in  Sybaris,  Croton,  and  Tarentum,  in  Etruria  and 
Thessaly,  in  Athens,  in  Rome,  in  Mexico,  and  in 
Peru,  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and  in  Siberia  and 
Abyssinia,  among  the  Kalmucks  and  the  Scandi- 
navians, in  Mediaeval  England,  Scotland,  Ireland,  and 
Wales,  in  Toledo,  in  old  Vienna,  and  in  lunatic 
asylums  —  in  short,  wherever  the  rhythmic  feet  of 
man  and  woman  trod  a  measure.  The  religion,  the 
philosophy,  the  poetry,  and  the  science  and  the  art 
of  dancing  were  unfolded  with  gigantic  erudition, 
and  the  great  work,  together  with  three  hundred 
pounds,  constituted  the  author's  entire  fortune.  Mak- 
ing a  desperate  last  effort  to  reach  the  ear  of  mankind, 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER          49 

he  engaged  the  services  of  a  translator,  to  whom  with 
apologies  he  paid  the  wretched  sum  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds.  The  expenses  of  publication 
swamped  the  remainder,  and  Herr  Habenichts  found 
himself  in  debt  to  the  printer  and  binder,  and  facing 
the  world  with  nothing  except  five  hundred  copies 
of  his  book,  each  copy  comprising  twelve  stout  vol- 
umes bound  in  paper  covers.  Sold:  one  copy  to 
Monsieur  Dumaresq,  whose  acquaintance  the  reader 
will  not  make  until  the  nineteenth  chapter.  An- 
other was  sent  gratis  to  the  British  Museum.  The 
result  was  that  Herr  Habenichts  had  in  his  hands, 
after  having  deducted  fifty  copies  sent  for  review, 
five  thousand  three  hundred  and  seventy-six  volumes, 
and  they  became  a  nightmare  to  him.  For  his  land- 
lady, Mrs.  Wix,  refused  to  give  house-room  to  more 
than  a  thousand,  and  the  remainder  lay  rotting  in  the 
book-binder's  cellar  in  Covent  Garden.  We  do  not 
propose,  however,  to  narrate  all  the  vicissitudes  into 
which  Herr  Habenichts  was  plunged.  Mrs.  Wix 
became  one  of  his  chief  persecutors,  and  treated  with 
ridicule  and  opprobrium  the  suggestion  that  in  the 
thousand  volumes  now  in  her  possession  she  held 
ample  security  for  the  board  and  lodging  with  which 
she  furnished  him.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  in  order 
to  find  bread,  at  last  Herr  Habenichts  was  forced 
to  sell  music  on  the  streets.  He  used  to  be  seen 
presiding  at  a  huckster's  stall  in  Farringdon  Road, 


50  THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

and  during  slack  hours  he  sat  on  a  stool  reading 
Epictetus  in  the  original  Greek.  And  I  firmly  be- 
lieve that  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  comfort  which 
he  obtained  from  the  maxims  of  that  wonderful  man 
he  never  could  have  survived  this  experience.  What 
with  taunts  at  his  nationality,  threats  to  overturn 
his  music  stall  and  make  him  dance  to  very  lively 
tunes,  fierce  allegations  that  he  was  a  German,  and 
probably  a  spy  sent  to  watch  the  progress  of  the 
British  Navy,  numerous  epithets  hurled  at  him  of 
which  the  least  offensive  was  "  German  Sausage," 
Herr  Habenichts  endured  what  is  called  a  very  hot 
time.  But  he  was  the  best-tempered  of  men.  And 
once  when  he  stopped  a  runaway  horse  which  had 
already  dodged  two  policemen,  an  entire  revolution 
of  opinion  in  the  district  took  place  in  his  favour, 
and  the  costers  in  their  humorous,  generous  way, 
carried  him  shoulder  high  the  entire  length  of  the 
street 

Surprising  and  delightful  was  the  news  which 
reached  him  one  day  from  Vienna.  A  retired  pro- 
fessor, who  had  been  a  companion  of  his  youth,  had 
left  him  by  his  will  and  testament  nothing  less  than 
seven  hundred  pounds.  Herr  Habenichts  was  on 
his  feet  again,  in  fact  he  was  dancing  with  delight; 
he  paid  the  printer  and  the  bookbinder,  voluntarily 
and  cheerfully  paid  another  hundred  pounds  to  the 
translator,  distributed  fifty  among  his  coster  friends, 


THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER  51 

settled  the  bill  with  Mrs.  Wix,  and  once  more  took 
up  his  old  quarters  in  Wix's  Residential  Hotel. 

Too  shrewd  and  too  thrifty  to  live  upon  capital, 
he  decided  to  invest  it  One  day  while  he  was 
walking  leisurely  down  Tottenham  Court  Road  he 
saw  that  Jellini's  was  to  let,  and  the  thought  struck 
him  that  here  was  his  chance.  He  never  despised 
the  little  gifts  of  life.  He  had  studied  modern 
dancing  in  its  relations  with  the  earlier  forms  out 
of  which  it  had  been  evolved.  Here  at  last  was  an 
occasion  for  proving  that  he  was  a  genuine  disciple 
of  Epictetus,  who  said  that  the  things  of  life  were 
indifferent  but  not  our  use  of  them.  And  the  famous 
illustration  of  life  as  a  game  at  ball  immediately 
occurred  to  Herr  Habenichts.  It  matters  little,  said 
the  sage,  of  what  material  the  ball  is  made,  but  it 
matters  greatly  that  we  should  skilfully  catch  it. 
"  Remember,  when  anything  comes  to  thee  to  ask 
thyself  what  faculty  thou  hast  for  making  use  of  it." 
Herr  Habenichts'  decision  was  forthwith  made. 
Providence  in  the  name  of  Jellini  was  calling  to  him. 
He  sought  out  the  agents;  he  inspected  the  hall;  he 
paid  a  half-year's  rent  in  advance;  he  ordered  that 
the  statue  of  Terpsichore,  which  stood  in  the  largest 
of  the  rooms,  was  to  be  painted  white,  and  that  the 
gilt  letters  of  the  name  of  the  Academy  fixed  above 
the  entrance  were  to  be  regilded;  he  engaged  an  ex- 
pert assistant,  and  a  porter,  for  he  liked  to  do  things 


52         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

handsomely;  and  he  advertised  for  pupils.  A  won- 
derful idea  came  into  his  head,  he  would  deliver 
his  book  in  lectures  to  enthusiastic  young  audiences. 
The  pupils  came  in  troops,  and  during  the  first 
six  months  it  seemed  as  if  the  ancient  Jellini  pres- 
tige had  been  recovered.  It  was  freely  admitted 
that  Herr  Habenichts  was  a  conscientious  and  la- 
borious teacher.  Apparently  his  knowledge  of  the 
science  of  dancing  was,  although  bookish,  profound. 
It  was  his  joy  to  trace  the  modern  pas  glisse,  pas  saute, 
grande  ronde,  and  heel-and-toe  polka  back  to  the 
mystic  rites  of  savages  or  to  the  dim  ages  of  religious 
song  when  Miriam  and  her  maidens  danced  before 
the  Lord.  His  own  efforts,  it  is  true,  in  illustration 
of  various  steps  and  poses  were  scarcely  so  fortunate. 
Corpulent,  short  in  stature,  far  from  agile,  and  suf- 
fering from  poor  man's  gout,  he  was  not  altogether 
a  typical  ball-room  figure,  and  his  theory  of  dancing 
was  considered  to  be  more  graceful  than  his  practice. 
But  it  must  never  be  forgotten  that  he  was  an  Aus- 
trian, and  therefore  possessed  that  artistic  instinct, 
gaiety,  and  quickness  of  perception  characteristic  of 
the  Viennese.  He  loved  beautiful  rhythm,  and  be- 
cause dancing  expressed  the  joy  of  motion  and 
brought  as  no  other  art  can  bring  the  entire  body  and 
mind  into  rhythmic  union,  he  was  not  ashamed  to 
be  its  exponent.  The  old  religions,  he  said,  knew  its 
emotional  value.  So  far  as  the  teaching  of  technique 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER  53 

was  concerned,  he  provided  his  pupils  with  an  ex- 
pert from  Vienna,  and  he  used  to  sit  watching  their 
movements  while  he  was  lost  in  pleasing  thoughts 
regarding  the  poetry  and  music  of  existence.  The 
real  cause  of  the  catastrophe  which  threatened  him 
at  the  end  of  the  first  half-year  was  his  insistence  on 
his  pupils'  attendance  once  a  month  at  his  lectures. 
When  he  was  expounding  the  history  of  the  art  they 
were  eager  to  be  dancing.  In  truth,  this  lecturing 
was  simply  an  attempt  to  revenge  himself  on  the 
world's  neglect  of  his  book,  and  he  read  whole  pas- 
sages of  it  to  his  yawning  audience.  On  one  occa- 
sion half  of  the  assembly  was  discovered  fast  asleep, 
while  Herr  Habenichts  was  drawing  brilliant  pic- 
tures of  dancing  in  ancient  Jericho. 

"  Go  there,"  said  a  sleepy  voice. 

Absorbed  in  his  theme  the  lecturer  was  unconscious 
of  interruptions  unless  they  became  too  loud.  It 
pleased  him  to  have  the  chance  of  slipping  into  his 
lectures  little  precepts  of  his  own.  But  when  he 
informed  his  pupils  that  he,  a  Teuton,  was  proud 
to  belong  to  the  great  race  from  which  the  English 
and  the  Germans  likewise  came,  there  was  an  uproar. 

"  Vot  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  De  ignorance !  Dey 
don't  believe  dat  de  English,  too,  come  from  de 
tribes  of  de  Rhineland?  It's  not  my  fault.  It  is 
history !  " 

Cries  of  "  Rot!  "    "  No  lies."    "  Draw  it  mild," 


54:  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

assailed  the  speaker,  and  the  song  "  See  me  dance 
the  Polka "  was  begun  by  an  improvised  choir  of 
male  voices. 

When  silence  had  been  restored  Herr  Habenichts 
continued  his  panegyric  on  the  Teutonic  race,  of 
which  the  English  and  the  Austrians,  he  pointed  out, 
formed  two  of  the  most  vital  branches,  the  race  that 
Tacitus  praised,  the  race  that  has  done  the  great 
constructive  work  of  modern  Europe,  and  he  ap- 
pealed in  a  passionate  peroration  for  peace  and  good- 
will between  all  its  families.  Asked  what  this  had 
to  do  with  dancing,  he  said  that  he  was  coming  to 
that,  and  then  gave  the  history  of  the  waltz.  His 
statement,  however,  that  the  waltz  was  a  German 
invention  was  received  with  hooting. 

"Herr  Gott!  "  he  exclaimed.  "Geduld!  Dey 
don't  know  dat  either!  Vy,  de  waltz  is  de  German 
national  dance.  Der  Walzer  ist  der  echt  deutsche 
Itfational-tanz.  I  am  not  a  German.  I  am  vrom 
Vienna.  But  vy  be  so  angry  vith  de  German  ?  Dey 
are  a  great  nation,  too." 

Something  resembling  a  riot  ensued  and  the  entire 
audience  was  on  its  feet.  Unable  to  obtain  silence, 
Herr  Habenichts  dismissed  his  unruly  class,  and 
from  that  evening  his  good  fortune  forsook  him.  Old 
pupils  dropped  away,  and  new  ones  were  not  enrolled. 
Like  the  clown,  who,  although  he  had  a  sad  heart, 
was  compelled  to  continue  his  grimaces,  Herr  Habe- 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  55 

nichts  kept  a  smiling  countenance,  but  the  brave  show 
was  really  over. 

The  bad  weather  was  upon  him  again.  The  ex- 
penses were  not  met  by  the  fees,  and  his  own  savings 
were  insignificant.  The  landlords  became  clamorous 
for  arrears  of  rent,  and  threatened  to  close  the  Acad- 
emy. It  was  in  this  predicament  that  the  poor  danc- 
ing philosopher,  who  had  frequently  heard  the  name 
of  Sir  John  Marduke,  boldly  determined  to  appeal  in 
person  to  that  lover  of  his  kind. 

When  Riggs  saw  the  combination  of  soft  felt 
hat,  somewhat  frayed  frock  coat,  and  unfurled  old- 
womanish  umbrella  at  the  door,  and  when  he  heard 
their  owner,  who  had  a  broad,  pale  face  and  grey 
moustache,  ask  if  "  Sir  Marduke  "  was  at  home,  he 
at  once  recognised  that  here  was  a  new  recruit  to 
the  unending  procession  of  beggars  to  whom  that 
door  was  far  too  frequently  opened.  And  so  he 
escorted  Ilerr  Habenichts  to  the  library,  where  Sir 
John  Marduke  was  to  be  seen  almost  daily  between 
eleven  and  one  o'clock. 

"  I  not  beg  !  "  began  Herr  Habenichts,  with  a 
profound  bow.  "  No,  Sir  Marduke.  But  sometimes 
everyting  depends  upon  de  pocket.  Ven  de  pocket 
is  full,  den  we  are  pleased,  but  ven  it  is  empty,  oh 
dear!" 

"  I  did  n't  catch  your  name,"  said  Sir  John  Mar- 
duke, looking  narrowly  at  the  stranger. 


56  THE   OLD   DAltfCE    MASTER 

"  Habenichts,"  said  the  proprietor  of  that  name ; 
"  I  am  vrom  Vienna.  I  am  not  a  German  spy.  Vot 
an  idea!  I  love  dis  country,  de  greatness,  de  free- 
dom. I  am  a  poor  dance  master." 

Somewhat  astonished  —  although,  indeed,  in  his 
daily  encounter  with  human  misfortune  there  was 
little  left  of  London  sorrow  to  cause  astonishment 
to  Sir  John  —  he  looked  again  at  Herr  Habenichts, 
and  could  not  refrain  from  a  smile.  But  he  noticed 
that  his  visitor  returned  the  glance  full  in  the  face, 
and  that  was  what  Sir  John  liked. 

"  Bitter  is  de  vinegar  of  life,  sir,"  observed  Herr 
Habenichts,  in  a  moment  of  dejection. 

"  And  vinegar  should  never  be  anything  else," 
replied  Sir  John,  smiling  again. 

"  I  am  Viennese,"  continued  Herr  Habenichts ; 
"  as  if  a  poor  old  man  like  me  could  be  a  spy.  Vot 
haf  I  to  do  vith  it?  I  vould  never  do  such  wrong 
ting  to  people  dat  has  been  so  kind  to  me.  Der  is 
no  gammon  about  it.  Ah,  de  vind  blow  strong,  and 
I  go  against  it !  " 

"Well,  Mr.  Habenichts,"  said  the  baronet,  "tell 
me  what  has  brought  you  to  me  ?  " 

Herr  Habenichts  thereupon  gave  a  long  explana- 
tion of  his  past  life  and  his  present  circumstances,  re- 
peated his  statement  that  he  had  never  begged  from 
any  man,  but  finally  made  the  somewhat  daring  pro- 
posal that  if  Sir  John  Marduke  would  help  him  to 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  57 

meet  the  arrears  in  rent  he  would  reimburse  him  by 
monthly  instalments  out  of  the  fees,  and  would  pay 
whatever  rate  of  interest  was  demanded. 

"  I  am  so  vrightened  for  de  money-lenders,"  he 
explained.  "  I  vould  pay  you  all  de  fees  except 
vot  vas  required  for  vages  and  my  poor  lodge  at 
Mrs.  Vix." 

In  spite  of  the  spontaneous  stream  of  his  charity, 
Sir  John  Marduke  always  made  careful  inquiries 
when  any  appeal  for  money  was  made  to  him,  and 
he  subjected  Herr  Habenichts  to  a  searching  cross- 
examination.  Having  ascertained  the  general  posi- 
tion of  affairs  he  said  that  he  would  make  further 
investigations  in  other  quarters.  But  there  was  some- 
thing so  nai've  and  unworldly  in  Herr  Habenichts, 
his  story  was  so  odd,  and  yet,  judging  from  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  man,  so  probable,  that  Sir  John 
already  began  to  feel  a  certain  sympathy  for  him. 
He  told  him  that  he  would  take  the  advice  of  the 
district  visitors  and  of  some  of  the  clergymen  of 
the  parish,  and  if  their  report  was  favourable  he 
would  be  very  glad  to  be  able  to  save  Herr  Habenichts 
from  ruin.  Herr  Habenichts  as  a  mark  of  esteem 
offered  a  copy  of  his  book  in  twelve  volumes,  dedi- 
cated to  Terpsichore,  but  Sir  John  declined,  saying 
that  he  would  buy  it.  We  had  intended  to  conceal 
what  took  place  immediately  after  that  last  dec- 
laration of  Sir  John.  But  when  we  remembered 


58  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

that  Homer  was  not  ashamed  to  give  a  picture  of 
Achilles  in  tears,  we  no  longer  hesitated  to  inform 
the  reader  that  Herr  Habenichts  suddenly  found 
himself  in  great  stress  of  emotion.  He  unbuttoned 
his  frock  coat  and  fumbled  for  his  handkerchief  with 
which  he  covered  his  eyes  during  a  few  moments. 
The  kind  tones  of  the  baronet's  voice,  the  sudden 
transition  from  the  fear  of  a  catastrophe  to  the  hope 
of  success  had  been  too  much  for  the  old  Herr's 
impressionable  nature.  Finally,  however,  after  some 
encouraging  words  from  Sir  John,  he  found  himself 
in  the  street,  and  was  muttering  "  De  bad  veather 
passes  again."  In  fact,  the  zephyrs  were  blowing 
in  winter,  and  the  sun  was  shining  brightly  on  the 
Marylebone  Road,  while  Herr  Habenichts  went  gaily 
to  Jellini's,  stopping  on  the  way  to  give  twopence  to 
a  beggar.  Sir  John  Marduke  did  not  disappoint 
him.  The  district  visitors,  the  clergymen,  and  a 
member  of  the  borough  council  of  St.  Pancras  testified 
to  the  respectable  character  of  Herr  Habenichts  and 
his  academy,  and  even  stated  their  opinion  that  the 
rooms  were  a  centre  of  innocent  gaiety  and  recrea- 
tion, and  deserved  to  be  encouraged.  That  was 
enough  for  Sir  John.  He  declared  himself  a  patron, 
met  the  arrears  of  rent,  and  arranged  with  his  new 
protege  to  be  paid  in  easy  instalments.  And  on 
Herr  Habeniehts'  side  the  covenant  was  faithfully 
kept.  Whether  owing  to  the  prestige  of  Sir  John, 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  59 

Harduke's  name,  or  to  the  renewed  energy  with 
which  Herr  Habenichts  threw  himself  into  the  battle, 
the  fact  remains  that  Jellini's  began  to  give  promise 
of  fresh  life.  And  when  at  length  permission  was 
granted  to  announce  on  the  card  of  invitation  that 
the  patron  among  other  distinguished  persons  would 
be  present  at  the  pupils'  ball,  Herr  Habenichts  saw, 
more  clearly  than  ever,  the  bright  side  of  things. 


CHAPTER  FOURTH 

THE  band  had  been  ordered  to  play  "  For  he  's  a 
jolly  good  fellow  "  as  soon  as  Sir  John  Marduke  and 
his  party  entered  the  hall,  which  was  now  filled  by 
the  pupils,  their  parents,  and  their  friends.  The 
space  reserved  for  the  dancers  was  divided  off  by 
the  red  baize  benches  behind  which  seats  were  pro- 
vided for  the  spectators.  The  flowers,  shrubs,  and 
coloured  lamps  made  a  pretty  spectacle;  the  floor, 
which  was  smooth  and  highly  polished,  seemed  to 
invite  the  dancers'  feet,  and  from  her  pedestal,  Terp- 
sichore, goddess  of  the  dance,  with  a  laurel  wreath 
on  her  brow,  looked  down  benignantly  on  her  young 
devotees.  At  one  end  of  the  hall  there  was  a  plat- 
form upon  which  seats  were  arranged  for  the  dis- 
tinguished guests.  At  the  top  of  the  steps  stood  Herr 
Habenichts  in  evening  dress  and  white  gloves,  and 
he  welcomed  those  who  honoured  him  by  their  pres- 
ence with  a  bow  which  would  not  have  disgraced  a 
seventeenth-century  Marquis.  When  Sir  John, 
Monty,  and  Minnie  appeared  all  the  pupils  stood  up, 
sang  the  ditty  of  greeting  to  the  accompaniment  of 

the  band,  and  when  the  last  bar  had  been  played, 

60 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  61 

they  cheered  with  prolonged  fervour.  Herr  Habe- 
nichts  with  many  smiles  conducted  his  patron  and 
his  patron's  son  and  daughter  to  the  most  conspic- 
uous seats,  presented  each  of  them  with  the  pro- 
gramme, and  then  descended  from  the  platform  in 
order  to  fulfil  the  function  of  master  of  the  cere- 
monies. On  the  platform  there  were  already  gathered 
the  following  notabilities.  There  was  the  Member  of 
Parliament  for  the  district,  who,  in  having  accepted 
Herr  Habenichts'  invitation,  was  no  doubt  anxious 
to  win  the  suffrage  of  the  rising  generation.  He 
was  accompanied  by  his  wife.  Moreover,  seated 
next  him  was  his  prospective  opponent  at  the  next 
election,  and  his  wife.  And  when  the  two  political 
enemies  shook  hands,  and  their  wives  shook  hands, 
a  murmur  of  approval  was  heard  throughout  the 
hall.  Then  came  the  Mayor  and  Mayoress  of  St. 
Pancras,  the  Mayor  and  Mayoress  of  Hampstead,  a 
minor  official  of  the  Austrian  Embassy,  two  members 
of  the  Board  of  Guardians,  a  vicar,  and  a  curate, 
while  the  back  seats  on  the  platform  were  occupied 
by  the  wealthier  warehousemen  and  shop-keepers  of 
the  neighbouring  streets,  whose  sons  and  daughters 
were  among  the  dancers.  Monty  Marduke,  opera 
glass  in  hand,  looked  round  in  terror  to  discover 
whether  the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Berkshire  had  car- 
ried out  her  threat,  but  she  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 
His  father  was  likewise  scanning  the  audience,  and 


62  THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

was  much  pleased  by  the  decorum  of  the  pupils,  upon 
whose  general  bearing  he  had  already  congratulated 
Herr  Habenichts,  and  by  the  look  of  pride  and  sat- 
isfaction of  the  parents  whose  countenances  indicated 
that  they  belonged  to  the  lower  middle  class. 

The  opening  dance,  which  was  a  quadrille,  had 
already  begun,  and  the  master  of  ceremonies  had 
wisely  ordained  that  his  best  dancers  should  dance 
immediately  in  front  of  the  platform.  It  was  there- 
fore wholly  unnecessary  for  Monty  Marduke  to  keep 
his  opera  glass  fixed  on  Miss  Dorothy  Larkin.  He 
saw  her  perfectly  well,  and  indeed  she  was  so  near 
that  when  he  used  the  glass  to  bring  her  nearer, 
she  seemed  so  close  that  he  could  have  touched  her. 
He  laid  down  the  opera  glass  to  make  use  of  his 
ordinary  powers  of  vision  in  order  to  discover  whether 
they  magnified  her  beauty,  and  he  followed  her  in- 
tently through  the  various  movements  of  the  quad- 
rille. Her  face,  her  figure,  her  waist  —  Heaven  help 
him !  —  everything  about  her  was  nothing  less  than 
perfect.  He  heard  his  sister  say  to  the  baronet, 
"  Look  at  that  handsome  girl.  Is  n't  she  wonder- 
ful ?  "  Sir  John  began  to  use  his  opera  glass,  and 
after  he  had  gazed  at  Dorrie  he  said,  "  Yes.  But 
that 's  what  I  've  always  said.  Take  them  all  in  all, 
there  'a  more  physical  beauty  in  the  so-called  lower 
orders  than  in  the  so-called  higher."  Monty  agreed 
with  every  word,  but  remained  silent.  But  although 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  63 

silent  he  was  slightly  restless.  Somehow  or  other 
he  found  himself  looking  askance  at  Dome's  partner, 
a  slim,  innocent-looking  man  who  happened  to  be  a 
bank  clerk.  Monty  felt  that  this  person  was  injuring 
him.  And  when  Dorrie,  who,  of  course,  was  in  the 
leading  couples,  gave  her  partner  her  hand,  Mr. 
Monty  Marduke  not  only  felt  offended  and  displeased 
with  the  partner,  but  desired  to  hit  him.  The  five 
figures  of  the  quadrille  corresponded  to  five  stages  of 
undeniable  excitement  in  Mr.  Marduke's  heart  and 
brain,  and  when  the  "  Flirtation  Figure "  was 
reached,  he  was  in  a  state  of  desperation.  The  opera 
glass  was  raised  and  lowered  many  times,  and  at 
last  its  owner  was  nearly  hurling  it  at  the  insolent 
gentleman  who  continued  audaciously  to  galopade 
with  the  loveliest  girl  in  London.  Forward  and  back 
again,  curtsey  here,  curtsey  there,  visits  to  the  right, 
visits  to  the  left  —  the  entire  kaleidoscope  of  the 
dance  was  making  Mr.  Monty  Marduke  giddy,  but 
he  was  specially  bewildered  by  that  one  bright  par- 
ticular star  who  seemed  to  draw  all  the  feebler  lights 
within  her  orbit.  The  shimmering  muslin  dress  in 
its  maddening  simplicity  was  a  veil  for  the  most 
exquisite  creature  to  whom  Nature  had  ever  given 
the  shape  of  woman.  And  Monty  had  never  yet  been 
really  in  love.  He  was  aware  that  his  sister  was 
observing  him.  "  Damn  her  cleverness,"  he  thought. 
And  then  suddenly  he  remembered  the  case  of  that 


64  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

statesman  who,  when  in  a  ball-room  he  saw  a  certain 
woman  for  the  first  time,  nudged  a  friend,  and  said, 
"  That  woman  shall  be  my  wife !  "  The  quadrille 
was  nearing  its  finish,  and  at  a  moment  when  the 
configuration  of  the  dance  compelled  Dorrie  to  face 
the  platform,  her  admirer  quickly  picked  up  his  glass 
again,  and  looked  straight  into  her  dark,  mysterious 
eyes.  She  seemed  so  near  to  him  that  he  almost  heard 
her  breathing. 

But  the  quadrille  was  at  an  end  and  the  dancers 
were  walking  to  their  seats.  Only  Dorrie  stood  wait- 
ing alone,  and  as  Herr  Habenichts  came  forward  to 
conduct  her  down  the  room,  all  eyes  were  upon  her, 
for  the  programme  said,  "  A  Dance  with  Castanets  — 
Miss  Dorothy  Larkin."  A  delightful  melody  stole 
forth  from  the  instruments  —  it  was  part  of  the  Hof 
Ball  Musik  of  Vienna  —  and  presently  there  was  a 
click  of  castanets  and  Dorrie  was  dancing.  Her 
slight  embarrassment  soon  vanished  as  she  responded 
in  a  variety  of  ravishing  motions  to  the  throb  of  the 
music.  The  castanets  sounded  bewitchingly  as  they 
marked  the  advancing  stages  of  the  dance.  Now 
the  dancer  was  moving  in  slow  languorous  curves, 
now  she  was  translating  into  the  rhythm  of  action  the 
joy  and  passion  which  the  music  suggested,  but  left  to 
her  fully  to  express.  The  harmony  of  her  gesture, 
the  rapid  twinkling  of  her  feet  in  the  white  satin 
slippers,  her  beautiful  and  intelligent  face,  blushing 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  65 

because  of  her  modesty,  her  dark  dazzling  hair  — 
all  these,  and  her  English  girlhood  abandoning  itself 
to  the  joy  and  triumph  of  the  moment,  made  an  un- 
forgettable impression  on  at  least  one  of  the  specta- 
tors. It  was  as  if  Terpsichore  herself  had  descended 
from  her  pedestal  to  tread  a  measure  among  man- 
kind. After  the  last  click  click  of  the  castanets  the 
dancer  received  an  ovation.  But  accurate  observers 
maintained  that  the  applause  was  led  with  special 
vehemence  from  the  platform,  and  that  from  the 
same  direction  there  came  "  Bravas !  "  uttered  by  a 
male  voice.  After  Herr  Habenichts  had  come  for- 
ward and  had  conducted  his  pupil  to  her  seat,  he  was 
called  to  the  platform  by  Sir  John  Marduke,  who 
asked  who  she  was. 

"  She  is  vondervoll,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  beam- 
ing on  his  patron  and  buttoning  and  unbuttoning 
his  own  white  gloves  in  excitement.  "  She  is  a  porn 
tancer.  It  is  Nature,  Sir  Marduke.  We  have  taught 
her  leetle,  leetle.  Her  fader  is  a  large  cab  proprie- 
tor and  farmer.  Most  respectable  people." 

"  Indeed,  indeed,"  said  Sir  John.  "  She  is  a 
charming  girl." 

"  Vould  you  believe  it !  "  he  whispered  to  his 
daughter  after  Herr  Habenichts  had  gone  down 
among  his  pupils  again.  "  A  cab  proprietor !  I 
never  heard  of  such  an  unromantic  origin  for  such  a 
romantic  young  creature." 


66  THE    OLD    DANCE   MASTER 

It  would  be  puerile  to  deny  that  Mr.  Monty  Mar- 
duke  had  received  a  slight  shock.  He  repeated  the 
words  "  cab  proprietor,"  and  could  find  no  natural  link 
whatever  between  the  sort  of  individual  whom  such 
words  denoted  and  the  wonderful  girl  whom  he  saw 
before  him.  Nevertheless,  feelings  of  a  more  serious 
kind  quickly  took  possession  of  him.  To  begin  with, 
he  was  excessively  angry  with  his  sister,  although  she 
had  scarcely  crossed  words  with  him  since  the  danc- 
ing had  begun.  In  the  second  place,  he  was  grie- 
vously annoyed  at  his  father  for  having  mentioned 
the  cab  proprietor.  In  the  third  place,  nothing 
would  have  pleased  him  better  at  that  moment  than 
the  departure  of  his  father  and  sister.  He  wished 
them  miles  away.  For,  in  the  fourth  place  —  but, 
really,  some  courage  is  required  to  confess  it  —  he 
had  decided  to  ask  Miss  Dorothy  Larkin  to  dance 
with  him.  Two  things  were  already  certain,  (1) 
that  if  Sir  John  and  Minnie  had  not  been  present, 
the  smitten  youth  would  have  gone  immediately  to 
Herr  Habenichts  to  demand  an  introduction;  and 
(2)  that  even  although  Sir  John  and  Minnie  did 
remain  until  the  end  of  the  programme,  the  said 
youth  would  find  it  impossible  to  resist  any  longer 
the  impulse  which  was  driving  him  down  to  the  danc- 
ing floor  and  into  Miss  Dorothy  Larkin's  arms.  It 
was  not  for  nothing  that  he  had  been  brought  up  to 
understand  fellowship  with  those  who  were  in  a  hum- 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER          67 

ble  station.  His  heart  was  in  the  dance,  in  the  mu- 
sic, and  for  the  moment  class  distinctions  were 
obliterated.  Class  distinctions  ?  Dorothy  had  more 
vitality,  more  grace  than  all  the  insipid  beauties 
whom  he  had  seen  in  London  drawing-rooms  and 
among  whom  he  had  been  taught  to  look  for  a 
wife. 

"  Is  the  motor  waiting  ? "  he  asked  his  sister. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied. 

"  How  long  is  the  governor  going  to  remain  ?  " 

"  Probably  till  the  very  end,"  said  Minnie, 
maliciously. 

"Really?    Did  he  say  so?" 

"Why  are  you  asking?"  And  Minnie  looked  at 
her  brother  through  and  through. 

"  Would  n't  it  be  a  joke  if  I  went  down  there  and 
had  a  dance  ?  "  suggested  Monty. 

"  I  should  think  it  would,"  replied  Minnie,  dread- 
ing the  continuance  of  the  conversation. 

It  was  exactly  the  sort  of  answer  to  provoke  the 
spirit  of  mischief  and  unconventionality  in  Monty 
Marduke,  and  he  flatly  told  his  sister  what  he  thought 
of  her. 

"  Governor,"  he  said  boldly,  "  would  you  object  if 
I  got  down  among  the  fun  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Sir  John. 

"  I  mean  if  I  went  and  had  a  dance,"  replied 
Monty,  adding  in  a  voice  that  quivered  in  spite  of 


68  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

all  his  attempt  to  conceal  it,  "  with  .  .  .  with  that 
girl." 

"  Why  do  you  ask  such  a  question  ? "  demanded 
the  baronet. 

"  Why,"  replied  the  youth,  "  you  said  she  was 
charming." 

"  That 's  no  reason  why  you  should  dance,  .  .  . 
mix  with  .  .  ."  But  the  words  seemed  strange  to 
Sir  John  himself,  and  he  stopped  suddenly  while  an 
oppressive  sensation  came  over  him. 

"  Why  not  ? "  continued  Monty,  with  the  terrible 
irresistible  logic  of  youth.  "  If  people  are  charming, 
why  not  get  to  know  them?  It  would  show  that 
we  're  not  shams.  What 's  the  good  of  sitting  up 
here  ?  At  what  precise  distance  are  you  going  to 
keep  yourself  away  from  those  sort  of  people  ?  This 
is  charity  at  the  end  of  a  ten-foot  pole." 

The  baronet  was  angry  and  confused,  for  his 
son's  proposal  had  revealed  in  a  flash  the  secret  con- 
tradiction which  lay  in  the  heart  of  his  philan- 
thropy. Was  it  to  arrive  at  this  dilemma  that  Sir 
John  Marduke,  baronet  and  millionaire,  had  been 
preaching  the  doctrine  of  human  fellowship  and 
the  necessity  of  causing  all  the  social  ranks  to 
intermingle  at  some  point  for  the  good  of  the 
world  ? 

"  Where  's  the  harm  ?  "  demanded  Monty,  judg- 
ing his  father  out  of  that  father's  mouth. 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  69 

"  If  you  dance,"  said  Sir  John,  sternly,  "  I  will 
leave  the  place  at  once." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Monty,"  said  Minnie. 

"  You  would  shake  hands  with  these  people,  gov- 
ernor ?  "  asked  Monty,  ironically. 

"  Most  certainly,"  replied  the  baronet. 

"  And  why  should  n't  I  dance  with  them  ? "  asked 
Monty. 

Sir  John  Marduke  exchanged  pained  glances  with 
his  daughter. 

"  How  often  have  you  said,"  continued  Monty, 
"  that  the  caste  system  is  a  curse,  that  it  stops  the 
growth  of  a  nation,  and  so  on?  A  minute  ago  you 
were  talking  about  f  the  so-called  higher  and  the  so- 
called  lower.'  Does  your  theory  break  down  so 
easily  after  all  ?  " 

"  I  refuse  to  discuss  the  subject  at  present,"  re- 
torted Sir  John. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Monty,  and  he  left  the  platform, 
and  went  straight  to  Herr  Habenichts,  and  demanded 
an  introduction  to  Miss  Dorothy  Larkin. 

"  But  dat  is  too  great  honour  vor  her,"  said  Herr 
Habenichts,  surprised  and  looking  towards  the  plat- 
form for  guidance.  "  Vot  does  your  fader  say  ?  He 
is  not  pleased,  I  see." 

"  Come  on,  Herr  Habenichts,"  said  Monty,  lead- 
ing the  way,  while  Herr  Habenichts  followed  re- 
luctantly to  the  spot  where  Dorothy  sat,  still  ani- 


TO  THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

mated  by  her  recent  achievement  in  the  dance  with 
castanets.  And,  indeed,  Herr  Habenichts  need 
scarcely  have  followed  at  all  because  Monty  practi- 
cally introduced  himself.  The  dancers  were  rising  for 
the  waltz,  and  to  the  horror  of  two  spectators  on  the 
platform,  their  kinsman  was  seen  putting  his  arm 
round  Miss  Dorothy  Larkin's  waist.  There  was  a 
sudden  buzz  in  the  audience  as  it  became  known  that 
Sir  John  Marduke's  son  had  come  from  the  plat- 
form to  take  part  in  the  dancing.  And  it  soon  be- 
came evident  that  the  youth  deserved  the  reputation 
which  he  enjoyed  among  his  own  class  of  being  the 
finest  waltzer  in  London.  The  band  was  playing 
Johann  Strauss's  Friihlings  Stimmen,  a  piece  of 
dance  music  sufficient  to  stimulate  the  feet  of  every 
waltzer  to  take  the  floor.  Instinctively,  however,  the 
other  couples  fell  back  spell-bound,  to  watch  this 
straight-legged  specimen  of  an  English  athlete, 
dressed  in  the  most  faultless  evening  clothes  which 
Savile  Row  could  produce,  actually  leading  the  waltz 
with  Herr  Habenichts'  favoured  pupil.  Uncon- 
scious of  the  storm  which  was  gathering  on  the  plat- 
form, Herr  Habenichts  in  an  ecstasy  contemplated 
the  pair,  and  followed  them  with  his  eyes  round  and 
round  and  up  and  down  the  room.  Suddenly,  how- 
ever, his  attention  was  diverted  by  a  movement  on 
the  platform.  Sir  John  and  Minnie  had  risen,  and 
were  preparing  to  walk  out.  Herr  Habenichts 


THE    OLD    DANCE   MASTER  71 

hurried  towards  them  and  met  them  at  the  foot  of 
the  platform  steps.  It  was  obvious  that  the  baronet 
was  very  angry,  and  when  Herr  Habenichts  ven- 
tured to  speak  he  was  rather  frigidly  received.  He 
grasped  the  situation  at  once,  however,  and  expected 
with  his  usual  optimism  to  be  able  to  soothe  his 
patron  and  alter  his  decision.  His  own  passionate 
delight  in  observing  rhythmic  movement  and  his 
sense  of  beauty  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  suppose 
that  any  one  could  leave  the  hall  as  long  as  that 
waltz  lasted.  In  fact,  he  pretended  to  believe  that 
Sir  John  and  his  daughter  were  wishing  to  secure  a 
better  view. 

"  Your  son  do  it  out  of  de  kindness,  Sir  Marduke !  " 
said  Herr  Habenichts.  "  He  is  so  like  his  fader. 
You  go  ?  No,  no,  look,  he  is  like  de  beautiful 
Dionysus;  see  de  grace  of  dat  limb.  Dat  is  gala, 
dat  is  festa.  It  is  like  a  young  Greek  god  in  sval- 
low  tails !  " 

While  he  was  delivering  himself  of  these  words 
Herr  Habenichts  was  compelled  to  follow  Sir  John 
and  Minnie  Marduke  into  the  vestibule,  and  his 
attempts  to  persuade  them  to  return  were  utterly 
futile.  Sir  John  called  for  his  motor,  and  we  are 
grieved  to  say  that  he  entered  the  car  without  even 
having  shaken  hands  with  Herr  Habenichts.  Such 
is  the  hidden  force  of  pride,  and  such  is  the  sudden 
revelation  of  its  power  even  in  the  heart  of  a  gentle, 


72  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

true,  and  good  man  like  Sir  John  Marduke.  His 
daughter,  however,  having  noticed  Herr  Habenichts' 
discomfiture,  attempted  to  mitigate  the  impression, 
and  shook  hands,  saying,  "We  did  not  mean  to  see 
the  programme  to  a  finish."  Accepting  this  comfort 
for  what  it  was  worth,  Herr  Habenichts  returned  to 
the  hall  where  the  piquancy  of  the  scene  which  had 
just  been  enacted  had  been  thoroughly  enjoyed  by 
every  one.  And  the  patron's  son  was  still  dancing. 
Even  although  the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Berkshire 
had  carried  out  her  threat  and  been  present,  Monty 
would  not  have  desisted.  For  in  his  heart  —  which 
was  a  good  honest  one  —  he  knew  that  no  vulgar 
passion  was  impelling  him,  but  an  instinct  that  was 
great,  and  destined,  and  even  elemental.  In  plain 
truth  the  elements  of  his  being  had  been  suddenly 
and  singularly  stirred,  and  he  could  not  help  him- 
self. Here  was  something  new  and  unforeseen  in 
his  life.  ~No  doubt  to  a  cynical  observer,  whose 
head  is  lined  with  ice,  there  was  a  comic  side  in  the 
spectacle.  But  Monty  was  conscious  of  nothing  ex- 
cept delight  in  the  girl  and  in  the  dance.  And  when 
in  the  full  bovine  gaze  of  the  audience  they  had 
waltzed  themselves  weary  and  now  sat  on  one  of  the 
red  baize  benches,  Monty  was  no  whit  embarrassed. 
It  was  Dorrie  who  was  trembling  and  blushing,  and 
it  was  Herr  Habenichts  who  was  looking  a  little 
scared.  Monty  was  talking  about  Essex,  every  nook 


THE    OLD   DAtfCE   MASTER  73 

of  which  she  knew,  and  in  which  he  said  he  had 
hunted;  about  her  father's  old  farm  near  Colches- 
ter; then  about  her  love  of  pictures,  of  which  she 
knew  far  more  than  he;  and  then  about  her  love  of 
modern  poetry,  of  which  she  had  a  full  store  in  her 
memory.  Where  had  she  got  it  all  ?  It  must  be 
admitted  that  it  was  with  some  anxiety  that  he  had 
looked  forward  to  her  manner  of  speech  and  pro- 
nunciation, for  his  own  ear  was  fastidious  and 
refined.  But  to  his  surprise  her  English  was  pure 
and  well  chosen.  They  danced  no  more  that  night, 
and  yet  the  hours  flew.  When  the  programme  was 
not  far  from  its  close,  Monty  proposed  that  they 
should  go  to  the  corridor,  where  they  began  to  walk 
up  and  down.  They  were  gazed  at  by  the  rabble 
of  dancers,  who  behaved  somewhat  as  common  birds 
behave  when  birds  of  bright  and  strange  plumage 
come  among  them.  The  platform  in  the  hall  was 
almost  empty,  and  already  some  of  the  dancers  were 
departing.  And  in  truth  Herr  Habenichts  believed 
that  Mr.  Marduke's  sudden  act  had  ruined  the  pro- 
gramme because  interest  had  been  transferred  to  him 
and  Dorrie.  The  Herr  had  gone  for  a  few  moments 
to  his  own  private  room,  and  in  an  access  of  despair 
had  begun  wringing  his  hands.  At  length,  assuring 
himself  that  all  would  be  well,  he  emerged  again, 
and  beheld  Monty  and  Dorrie  walking  up  and  down. 
She  had  put  on  her  pink  hood  and  cloak  and  —  oh, 


74  THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

reader!  — the  patron's  son  was  carrying  the  fan  and 
the  satin  slippers.  Herr  Habenichts  attempted  to 
look  reproachfully,  but  the  truth  was  that  a  frown 
was  never  able  to  settle  on  his  face.  Monty  congratu- 
lated him  on  the  evening's  success. 

"  But,"  exclaimed  the  old  Tanzmeister,  "  de  patron 
has  gone !  " 

It  was  almost  on  the  stroke  of  eleven,  and  Monty 
proposed  that  they  should  sup  somewhere,  and  in- 
vited Herr  Habenichts  to  accompany  them.  But 
Herr  Habenichts  held  up  his  hands  and  said  no. 
Dorrie  likewise  declined.  The  pupils  and  friends 
were  jostling  in  the  vestibule.  Curious  glances  were 
cast  at  the  pair,  and  some  very  malicious  tongues 
were  busy.  The  credit  of  Herr  Habenichts'  Academy 
was  at  stake,  and,  to  his  dismay,  he  heard  Monty 
Marduke  offer  to  see  Miss  Dorothy  Larkin  home. 
Dorothy  thanked  him,  blushing,  but  very  graciously 
refused.  He  insisted,  and  she  refused.  He  still  in- 
sisted, and  she  seemed  less  resolute.  It  was  evident 
that  the  crowd  were  waiting  to  see  what  was  going 
to  happen,  or,  in  their  own  way  of  expressing  it, 
what  he  was  going  to  do  with  her. 

"  One  of  my  father's  cabs  is  coming  for  me,  Mr. 
Marduke,"  said  Dorothy. 

And  sure  enough,  there  at  the  door  were  Swefling 
and  Audacity  punctual  to  the  minute. 

"  Nothing  could  be  better,"  said  Monty. 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  75 

Therefore  a  lane  was  made  for  Cinderella  and 
the  Prince,  and  Herr  Habenichts  with  the  gravest 
misgivings,  and  many  mysterious  exclamations  in  his 
own  language,  saw  his  pupil  and  his  patron's  son 
walk  out  together.  Dorrie  was  flushed  and  nervous. 
She  felt  the  fascination  of  Marduke.  His  eyes  at- 
tracted her.  From  the  moment  that  he  had  touched 
her  in  the  dance  her  feelings  had  been  in  a  whirl  of 
joy  and  wonder.  Herr  Habenichts'  tall  porter  looked 
on  cynically,  while  he  prepared  to  assist  them  into 
the  cab. 

"  Yes,"  Monty  was  saying  to  her,  "  you  will  allow 
me  .to  come  ?  You  must  n't  go  about  alone." 

And  he  spoke  with  a  concern  that  was  personal 
and  unmistakable. 

"  That  cab  brought  me,"  she  said,  without  ventur- 
ing to  look  at  the  driver. 

For  it  will  be  admitted  that  it  was  for  Swelling 
that  the  main  surprise  of  the  entire  evening  had 
been  reserved.  He  gazed  down  in  bewilderment,  as 
he  saw  Miss  Dorothy  Larkin  being  escorted  by  an 
elegant  young  man  in  fine  dark  overcoat,  pumps, 
and  a  crush  hat.  And  when  the  possessor  of  these 
things  nodded  up  towards  the  dicky  and  said  "  Home, 
cabby,"  Mr.  Richard  Swefling,  obeying  some  blind 
instinct,  seized  his  whip.  Before  he  started  to  drive 
he  opened  the  trap-door,  and  looked  down  in  a  state 
of  alarm  and  indignation,  and  discovered  that  an 


76  THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

v 

animated  conversation  was  taking  place.  Then,  using 
his  whip  on  Audacity,  he  made  that  highly  strung 
animal  dart  forward  in  such  a  manner  as  to  cause 
Mr.  Monty  Marduke  to  observe  that  the  horse  had 
been,  and  still  was,  a  well-bred,  spirited  beast 

"  And  what  a  jolly  cab !  "  he  added. 

"  It 's  father's  best,"  said  Dorothy. 

"  Let 's  tell  your  cabby  to  drive  around  a  little  ? " 
suggested  Mr.  Monty  Marduke. 

"  Oh  no,  please  no.  They  're  waiting  for  me," 
said  Dorothy.  "  I  '11  be  late  as  it  is." 

As  Mr.  Richard  Swening  turned  into  Euston  Road, 
he  could  not  refrain  from  opening  the  trap-door 
again,  and  he  would  have  liked  to  use  the  butt  end 
of  his  whip  on  Mr.  Marduke's  hat.  For  his  instinct 
seemed  to  tell  him  that  he  was  driving  an  enemy. 
Monty,  however,  was  chatting  gaily,  and  was  making 
his  companion  promise  to  send  him  some  of  her 
pictures  and  sketches. 

"  I  '11  get  them  into  the  Academy  in  spring,"  he 
said  grandly. 

"  Some  horrible  stuff  is  to  be  seen  in  the  Academy," 
observed  Dorrie. 

He  turned  to  look  at  her,  and  his  wonder  grew. 

Presently  he  found  his  right  arm  making  tenta- 
tive movements,  in  the  direction  of  the  pink  cloak, 
and  all  in  a  sudden,  unable  to  master  himself,  he 
pressed  Dorrie  towards  him,  and  gave  her  a  kiss. 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER          77 

Providence  had  kindly  seen  to  it  that  at  that  moment 
the  trap-door  on  the  roof  remained  closed.  But 
Dorrie  was  in  tears.  She  knew  not  why.  They  were 
strange  and  sudden  tears,  not  of  sorrow.  But  she 
was  amazed  and  perturbed. 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  said,  "  I  could  n't  help  it.  You 
are  a  dear  girl." 

And  here  they  are  in  Larkin's  yard.  The  moment 
that  Audacity's  hoofs  clattered  on  the  cobble  stones, 
the  house  door  was  opened,  as  if  those  who  opened 
it  were  impatient.  The  incandescent  gas  lamp  was 
still  burning  above  the  doorstep,  and  a  dim  light 
was  visible  in  one  of  the  stables  at  the  far  end  of  the 
yard.  Sam  Larkin,  Mrs.  Bleeks,  and  Mrs.  Muzzey 
were  standing  on  the  threshold.  Dorothy  trembled, 
and  whispered,  "  That 's  my  father,  and  these  are 
my  aunts,"  and  she  did  not  wish  Marduke  to  hear 
the  women  talk.  But  Mrs.  Bleeks  was  already  talk- 
ing volubly. 

"  Nice  and  late,"  she  was  saying. 

"  Who  's  that  with  her  ?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Muzzey. 

There  was  consternation  when  Marduke  descended 
from  the  cab,  lifted  his  hat,  and  then  assisted  Dor- 
rie to  descend. 

"  Mr.  Marduke,"  Dorrie  explained,  "  has  very 
kindly  seen  me  home,  father." 

Larkin,  somewhat  bewildered,  lifted  his  hat  in 
turn,  and  then  there  was  an  awkward  pause  while 


78  THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

Swefling  looked  down  on  the  group,  and  was  more 
bewildered  than  any  of  them. 

"  Cabby,"  said  Monty,  "  you  '11  drive  me  home  ?  " 

Swefling,  who  had  no  desire  to  do  anything  of 
the  sort,  was,  however,  gifted  with  the  shrewdness 
typical  of  the  London  cabman,  and  thought  that  it 
would  be  wise  to  know  where  this  stranger  lived. 
Meantime  Mrs.  Bleeks  was  unable  to  repress  her 
feelings,  and  Sam  Larkin's  evident  displeasure  and 
suspicion  gave  her  encouragement. 

"  I  says,"  said  she,  "  only  wagabones  goes  abaht 
at  sich  an  hour,  keepin'  ole  parties  like  us  out  of 
their  beds." 

Whereupon  Mr.  Monty  Marduke  burst  out 
laughing. 

"  Oh,"  she  continued,  looking  at  him,  "  I  s'pose 
a  young  gent  like  you  thinks  we  keeps  fancy  men  in 
this  'ere  yard,"  which  was  a  very  insulting  remark, 
although,  happily,  Marduke  did  not  understand  its 
real  significance. 

"  It 's  too  herly  for  'er  to  begin  like  that,"  said 
Mrs.  Bleeks,  sternly.  "  Things  is  gettin'  wuss  and 
wuss,  ain't  they,  Liza?  As  if  sich  goin's  on  was 
allowed  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Wictoria !  It 's  not 
respeckable  for  a  young  gent  wot  should  know 
better." 

Marduke,  who  was  more  amused  than  annoyed, 
cut  Mrs.  Bleeks  short  by  saying  good-night  to  Dorrie, 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER  79 

lifting  his  hat  to  the  entire  group,  entering  the  han- 
som, and  giving  his  address  to  Swefling.  As  the 
cab  passed  out  of  the  yard,  Sam  Larkin  seized 
Dome  by  the  shoulders,  and  pushed  her  into  the 
house. 

Meantime  Swefling  seemed  to  have  communicated 
his  indignation  down  the  reins  to  Audacity,  for 
the  horse  went  along  the  Marylebone  Road  as  if 
that  thoroughfare  had  been  the  hunting-field.  And 
it  was  at  a  highly  dangerous  angle  that  Swefling 
turned  into  Park  Crescent  In  less  than  a  minute 
he  drew  up  at  the  house  in  Portland  Place.  Monty 
stood  smiling  on  the  foot-board,  and  laid  half  a  sov- 
ereign on  the  roof  of  the  cab,  within  reach  of  Swef- 
ling's  hand. 

"  Well,  cabby,"  said  he,  "  your  governor  's  got  a 
damned  pretty  daughter." 

Swefling's  blue  eyes  were  glaring  at  his  enemy. 

"  Get  out !  "  said  Swefling,  as  he  picked  up  the 
half-sovereign,  and  flung  it  in  Mr.  Monty  Marduke's 
face.  The  coin  fell  on  the  street,  and  went  jingling 
into  the  gutter,  and  dropped  down  a  grating.  Mar- 
<luke  was  scarcely  aware  of  what  had  happened  when 
he  saw  Swefling  seizing  the  whip,  and  making  it 
whizz  as  if  he  meant  to  strike  him.  And,  indeed, 
Swefling  had  no  other  intention.  But  the  sound  of 
the  lash  made  Audacity  plunge,  and  then  the  cab 
lurched  in  such  a  way  that  Marduke  was  thrown 


80  THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

violently  to  one  side,  and  it  was  only  thanks  to  his 
agility  that  he  landed  on  his  feet  on  the  pavement. 
Two  footmen  were  standing  at  the  open  door,  and 
before  Marduke  could  collect  his  thoughts  the  han- 
som was  being  driven  rapidly  away. 


CHAPTER   FIFTH 

HEBE  HABENICHTS  always  crossed  to  that  side  of 
the  street  on  which  the  sun  was  shining,  and  in  the 
contemplation  of  his  own  fortunes  he  adopted  the 
same  policy.  He  pointed  out  to  all  whom  it  might 
concern  —  and  it  concerns  the  whole  world  —  that 
clouds  are  by  their  .nature  shifting  things,  and  that 
the  wind,  like  a  London  policeman,  compels  them  to 
move  on.  Therefore  he  met  adversities  fearlessly, 
looked  into  their  domineering,  impudent  faces,  and 
said  — 

"  I  'm  not  vrightened  vor  you.  I  '11  dance  upon 
you!" 

He  professed  to  enjoy  the  storm  winds  of  life. 
Of  course  he  was  too  well  and  deeply  educated  not 
to  know  that  there  is  a  good  deal  of  devilry  in  the 
scheme  of  things.  He  admitted  that  the  smoke  of 
battle  was  always  rising,  and  he  doubted  whether, 
even  on  the  hottest,  darkest,  reddest  battlefield,  Na- 
ture provided  her  own  ambulance.  But  it  was  long 
ago  that  the  bright  forces  of  life  had  won  his  adora- 
tion, and  in  his  own  character  there  were  great  re- 

81 


82  THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

serves  of  sunshine.  He  considered  "  Carpe  diem  " 
wise  advice.  But  he  added  slyly  and  with  just  a 
hint  of  extraordinary  knowledge  of  the  world,  that 
youth  —  if  it  knows  life  and  Latin  —  prefers  to 
whisper  to  itself,  "  Carpe  noctem."  That,  within 
limits,  was  what  Monty  Marduke  had  done.  Because 
of  mere  joy,  he  had  gone  down  from  the  proud,  ex- 
clusive platform,  and  danced.  It  was  beautiful,  and 
he  loved  the  youth  for  it.  Class  prejudices,  class 
conventions,  and  all  the  things  that  sever  the  human 
ranks  had  been  defied  by  a  spontaneous  instinct  and 
act.  It  would  be  wrong  to  deny  that  Herr  Habenichts 
was  slightly  perturbed  when  he  thought  of  the  wrath 
of  Sir  John,  and  for  some  time  he  even  remained  in 
a  state  of  frenzy,  when  he  recalled  the  disappearance 
of  Monty  and  Dorrie  in  the  cab.  It  looked  like  an 
elopement.  But  in  spite  of  some  twinges  of  anxiety 
he  passed  the  Sunday  immediately  following  the  ball 
at  Jellini's  in  his  usual  serenity. 

Being  a  man  of  much  benevolence  he  invariably 
made  the  first  advances  in  friendship,  and  he  was 
eager  to  welcome  any  stranger  in  Wix's  Residential 
Hotel.  He  had  suffered  too  much  martyrdom  at 
the  hands  of  Mrs.  Wix  not  to  feel  sympathy  for 
her  fresh  victims.  But  his  efforts  were  often  re- 
warded by  a  cold  stare,  and  he  found  it  difficult  to 
thaw  the  ice  and  snow  of  British  taciturnity.  He 
was  loquacious,  and  was  once  asked  why  a  damned 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTEK  83 

foreigner  should  presume  to  patronise  Englishmen 
in  their  own  country.  Unweariedly  he  pleaded  origi- 
nal racial  relationship,  and  he  quoted  Tacitus  and 
Caesar.  Even  when  the  second  parlour  was  filled 
with  men,  it  was  filled  also  with  silence,  and  Herr 
Habenichts  looked  mournfully  at  the  row  of  mouths 
from  which  nothing  escaped  except  tobacco  smoke. 
His  remarks  in  broken  English  on  the  state  of  Lon- 
don weather,  or  on  the  state  of  Mrs.  Wix's  temper, 
or  on  the  attractions  of  Miss  Polly  Wix,  her  daughter, 
or  on  the  most  recent  exhibitions  of  Wixian  soup, 
Wixian  mutton,  Wixian  coffee,  and  Wixian  tea,  were 
received  either  in  monosyllabic  grunts  of  acquies- 
cence, or  in  profound  silence.  The  latest  arrival 
was  Mr.  Richard  Swefling,  whose  prosperity  had  so 
greatly  increased  that  he  could  now  afford  the  bed 
and  breakfast  which  Mrs.  Wix  allotted  to  her  second- 
class  customers.  But  the  chief  motive  of  his  change 
of  residence  was  a  desire  to  prove  that  he  was  rising 
in  the  world,  and  thereby  to  impress  Mr.  Sam  Larkin. 
For  Swefling  had  actually  been  hoping  that  the  day 
was  not  distant  when  he  might  venture  not  only 
to  make  love  and  a  declaration  to  Miss  Dorothy 
Larkin,  but  to  propose  himself  as  a  son-in-law  to 
her  father.  His  youth  and  smart  appearance  pleased 
Herr  Habenichts,  who  greeted  him  in  a  very  friendly 
way,  and  wondered  to  what  profession  he  belonged. 
But  Swefling  was  in  an  unfortunate  mood.  Not 


84  THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

twenty-four  hours  had  elapsed  since  he  had  thrown 
the  half-sovereign  in  Marduke's  face,  and  he  had 
sat  all  day  brooding  over  the  events  of  the  pre- 
vious night.  In  spite  of  many  efforts  Herr  Habe- 
nichts  was  unable  to  tap  the  sources  —  if  any  existed 
—  of  Mr.  Swefling's  conversational  powers.  In  fact 
Swefling's  appearance  said  plainly,  "Either  you  or 
I,  sir,  will  have  to  leave  this  room."  Herr  Habe- 
nichts  accepted  the  hint,  and  after  having  said  to  a 
tall  man  who  was  sitting  opposite  Swelling  by  the 
fire  that  he  would  see  him  later,  he  did  leave  the 
room.  He  marched  up  the  long  stair,  breathing 
heavily  all  the  way,  to  the  top  flat,  went  to  his  bed- 
room, and,  since  it  was  Sunday  afternoon,  he  lay 
down  in  despair  on  his  bed,  went  to  sleep,  and  had 
a  dream  about  the  Danube. 

Meanwhile  Swefling  did  not  stir  from  the  horse- 
hair easy-chair  by  the  fire,  and  gloomily  smoked  his 
pipe.  Occasionally  he  glanced  at  the  long-legged 
person  opposite,  and  once  their  eyes  met. 

"  Orful  ole  tattle  box,  that  Austrian,"  remarked 
the  stranger,  who  had  a  sleek  pale  face  and  the  thin, 
white,  fine  hands  of  a  tailor,  or  an  expert  pocket 
thief.  "  Orful  prattle  basket.  Talks  no  end,  but 
'e  's  a  good  sort,  too.  Best  ole  feller  you  ever  saw." 

"  Is  he  ? "  said  Swefling,  and  the  conversation 
seemed  to  be  at  an  end. 

"  Would  you  b'lieve  it  ?  "  continued  the  stranger, 


THE  OLD   DANCE   MASTER  85 

'"  that  ole  swag  belly  axually  learns  people  dancin' 
and  dances  hisself !  " 

"  Does  he  ?  "  said  Swefling,  with  a  slight,  eager 
start,  when  he  heard  the  word  "  dancin'." 

But  his  tone  and  manner  were  still  those  of  a 
man  who  did  not  want  to  be  drawn  into  a  conversa- 
tion. The  stranger  was  discouraged,  and  took  refuge 
in  a  Sunday  paper,  while  Swening  continued  to 
smoke  his  pipe  in  silence. 

The  "  second  parlour  "  was  so  named  because  those 
boarders  who  had  the  use  of  it  paid  cheaper  terms, 
and  did  not  mix,  except  once  a  week  at  the  Sunday 
supper,  with  Mrs.  Wix's  more  distinguished  clients. 
iWix  had  been  chief  steward  on  a  great  Atlantic  liner 
and  his  wife  had  been  head  stewardess.  Having 
grown  weary  of  their  sea  life,  and  having  gathered 
a  substantial  harvest  in  salaries  and  tips,  they  retired 
and  conceived  the  plan  of  carrying  on  a  hotel  as  if 
it  had  been  a  ship  divided  into  first  and  second  class 
accommodation.  Two  old  houses  in  Fashion  Row 
suited  their  design,  and  they  broke  through  the  par- 
tition wall.  On  one  side  was  the  first  class  (in  the 
Wixian  sense)  and  on  the  other  the  second,  and  a 
common  kitchen  supplied  the  two  different  kinds  of 
fare.  The  hotel  was  within  earshot  of  the  traffic  of 
Euston  Road,  of  which  a  glimpse  could  be  caught 
through  the  narrow  street  which  led  out  of  Fashion 
Row.  For  Fashion  Row  formed  a  sort  of  loop  of 


86  THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

which  the  aforesaid  street  was  the  loose  end.  Or 
it  might  be  described  as  shaped  like  a  broad  flat 
bottle  with  the  street  for  a  neck.  Shabby  gardens 
with  a  few  dim,  starved  trees,  dusty  bushes,  and 
tatterdemalion  flower-beds  filled  the  central  space, 
and  here  Herr  Habenichts  used  to  dose  on  one  of  the 
benches  on  sunny  summer  afternoons.  But  alas, 
Fashion  had  long  ago  deserted  Fashion  Row,  which 
was  erected  in  the  days  when  Russell  Square  was 
being  built  The  proximity  of  the  three  great  north- 
ern termini  had  ruined  the  residential  district, 
and  Fashion  Row  was  in  the  direct  radius  of  their 
blight.  Often  the  inmates  at  Wix's  were  roused  in 
the  night  by  the  whistles  of  trains  arriving  and  de- 
parting from  King's  Cross.  Yet  it  was  precisely 
the  nearness  of  the  railways  which  had  caused  Mr. 
,Wix  to  cast  his  net  in  such  a  place.  Shabby  gentle- 
men could  carry  their  bags  to  and  from  the  house  to 
the  stations  without  requiring  to  hire  a  cab,  and  it 
was  from  the  class  of  genteel  paupers  that  the  Wixian 
inmates  were  largely  recruited.  Struggling  clerks, 
elderly  spinsters,  with  purses  as  lean  as  their  own 
bodies,  the  poorer  sort  of  commercial  travellers,  and 
a  collection  of  stray  visitors  from  the  provinces  eager 
to  do  London  on  the  cheap,  these  and  their  like 
formed  the  prey  upon  which  Wix  thrived.  Contrary 
to  the  benevolent  hopes  of  his  friends,  and  the  ma- 
levolent hopes  of  his  enemies,  his  venture  became  a 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER  87 

success,  which  his  death  in  no  wise  interrupted.  For 
Mrs.  Wix,  assisted  by  her  daughter,  was  thoroughly 
capable  of  carrying  on  the  Wixian  policy  and  tradi- 
tion. Mrs.  Wix  speculated  in  decayed  gentlefolks. 
Their  misfortunes  had  made  them  docile.  They  ate 
less,  and,  with  a  few  exceptions,  grumbled  less  than 
the  common  upstarts  who  had  a  few  guineas  in  their 
pockets.  She  found  that  they  hated  a  scene,  and 
rather  than  create  one,  would  silently  endure  the 
eccentricities  of  a  cuisine  which  in  the  days  of  their 
splendour  they  would  have  been  ashamed  to  offer 
to  their  servants.  She  watched  them  —  singular  an- 
cient spider  that  she  was  —  swallowing  with  apparent 
equanimity  soup  which  was  skilly,  tea  which  appeared 
to  be  an  infusion  of  straw,  coffee  which  had  an  inti- 
mate relationship  with  the  sand  of  the  sea-shore,  bull 
beef  which  was  —  well,  bull  beef;  and  mutton,  the 
juices  of  which  had  long  ago  been  frozen  out  of  it 
during  the  passage  over-sea.  If  they  approached 
their  flock  beds  with  a  sigh  she  never  heard  it,  and 
she  could  only  guess  what  torment  they  suffered  in 
her  cotton  sheets.  They  remained  under  her  roof 
not  only  because  they  were  afraid  lest  they  might 
find  elsewhere  worse  fare  for  more  money,  but  be- 
cause the  chronic  arrears  of  their  payments  delivered 
them  into  her  hands.  She  had  invented  a  unique  and 
most  effective  discipline,  which  consisted  in  the  re- 
moval to  the  second-class  quarters  of  those  guests 


88  THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTEK 

of  the  first  class  who  were  guilty  of  too  obstinate  in- 
solvency. This  method  caused  genuine  dread  to  the 
more  sensitive  of  her  clients,  for  their  disappearance 
from  table  number  one,  and  their  appearance  at 
table  number  two,  declared  their  condition  to  the 
world.  According  as  their  fortunes  ebbed  they  were 
transported  from  the  more  expensive  to  the  less  ex- 
pensive wing  of  the  Wix  hotel,  and  if  their  insol- 
vency became  incurable  they  were  transported  into 
the  street.  Herr  Habenichts  knew  all  about  it,  for 
lie  had  gone  through  every  stage  of  the  apprentice- 
ship. Mrs.  Wix  seldom  made  mistakes.  She  had 
reasons  for  being  patient  with  certain  of  her  strange 
guests,  because  she  knew  exactly  when  the  pittances 
on  which  they  lived  came  dribbling  in,  and  she  never 
lost  a  moment  in  asserting  her  prior  rights  as  land- 
lady to  immediate  payment.  Like  the  second-class 
passengers  in  a  ship  the  inmates  of  number  two  were 
confined  to  their  own  quarters,  whereas  those  of 
number  one  roamed  over  the  entire  establishment. 
But  they  seldom  availed  themselves  of  the  privilege. 
Herr  Habenichts,  who  was  diligently  paying  his 
debts  to  Mrs.  Wix  and  to  other  creditors,  was  con- 
tent to  remain  in  the  humbler  apartments.  The  tap- 
room was  at  hand,  for  after  many  efforts  the  Wixes 
had  obtained  a  licence  to  sell  liquor,  and  Herr  Habe- 
nichts frequently  ordered  a  glass  of  beer  in  the  smok- 
ing-room. We  have  already  said  that  once  a  week 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER  89 

the  superior  and  the  inferior  guests  came  together  at 
table-d'hote  under  the  presidency  of  Mrs.  Wix.  The 
reason  was  that  on  Sunday  afternoons  and  evenings 
some  of  the  members  of  the  Wixian  staff  were  per- 
mitted to  enjoy  a  half -holiday.  Although  Wurm, 
the  greasy  and  thoroughly  amiable  Austrian  waiter, 
was  able  to  work  miracles  of  service,  he  could  hardly 
be  expected  to  be  in  two  places  at  the  same  moment. 
Hence  Mrs.  Wix's  battered  notabilities,  together  with 
her  commoner  rout,  assembled  every  Sunday  evening, 
precisely  at  half-past  seven  o'clock,  to  consume  what- 
ever Providence  and  Mrs.  Wix  had  placed  on  the 
table.  Some  of  her  more  fastidious  clients  were 
observed  to  look  in  a  condescending  way  towards  the 
lower  part  of  this  festive  board,  where  the  humbler 
guests  employed  knife  and  fork  with  that  energy 
which  tough  beef  and  stale  bread  demand.  There 
had  even  been  a  proposal  that  the  supper,  if  it  had 
to  be  served  in  the  same  room,  should  at  least  be 
spread  on  two  separate  tables.  Mrs.  Wix  peremp- 
torily refused  this  concession.  She  was  interested 
in  politics,  and  she  declared  that  it  was  good  for 
the  House  of  Lords,  by  which  she  meant  her  more 
pretentious  clients,  to  become  acquainted  with  the 
members  of  the  lower  house,  her  true  and  faithful 
Commons.  And  so  there  she  sat  with  her  enormous 
head  of  hair,  which  was  flaxen  when  it  should  have 
been  and  would  have  been  grey,  if  only  its  owner 


90  THE   OLD  DA>TCE  MASTER 

had  left  it  to  Nature  to  tinge.  Her  eyes  were  large 
and  brilliant,  her  complexion  was  suspiciously 
healthy,  and  she  had  a  strong  chin  and  a  look  of  de- 
termination which  would  not  have  disgraced  Mrs. 
Bleeks.  She  decided  to  outshine  as  long  as  possible 
her  daughter,  Polly,  who  presided  at  the  other  end 
of  the  table  among  the  humbler  folk.  The  incan- 
descent lamp  which  hung  from  the  ceiling  imme- 
diately above  the  centre  of  the  long  narrow  table, 
even  although  it  was  shrouded  in  violent  yellow  silk, 
emitted  a  dreadful  glare,  which  lit  up  every  face, 
and  allowed  Herr  Habenichts  to  read  strange  mat- 
ters in  each  of  them,  as  in  a  book  of  life.  Once 
Lady  Epworth  in  her  silk  dress,  which  was  thirty- 
three  years  old  last  spring,  was  seen  weeping  over 
a  plate  of  hot  eels  which  she  positively  refused  to 
touch. 

"  Then  she  can  leave  it,  and  go  to  the  Ritz  as 
soon  as  she  pays  her  bill,"  said  Mrs.  Wix  to  Wurm, 
and  warned  him  not  to  give  Lady  Epworth  much 
pudding. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  Lady  Epworth  and  Sir  Samuel 
were  in  debt  to  Mrs.  Wix  to  the  amount  of  nine- 
teen pounds,  two  shillings  and  threepence,  and  Mrs. 
Wix  declared  that  she  would  probably  have  to  wait 
a  century  for  it.  And  as  Lady  Holland  spoke  to 
Allen,  so  Mrs.  Wix  to  Herr  Habenichts,  whose  appe- 
tite she  feared. 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER  91 

"  The  potatoes  are  finished,  Herr  Habenichts," 
she  said  one  evening ;  "  instead  of  a  third  helping 
of  them  you  will  require  to  be  content  with  rice." 

Like  a  school-boy  Herr  Habenichts  looked  eagerly 
for  the  next  course,  and  moreover,  he  had  faith  in 
Wurm,  who,  either  out  of  patriotism  and  racial 
feeling,  or  else  out  of  ordinary  human  sympathy  and 
a  desire  to  humble  Mrs.  Wix,  laid  upon  Herr  Habe- 
nichts' plate  an  enormous  slice  of  roly-poly.  There 
are  compensations  in  the  world. 

Mr.  Richard  Swefling  had  only  been  ten  days  in 
the  house,  and  yet  Miss  Polly  Wix  had  conceived  a 
very  great  admiration  for  him.  Although  he  paid 
second-class  rates,  this  generous  creature  with  flaxen 
hair,  which  really  grew  out  of  her  own  scalp,  full 
blue  eyes,  and  full  red  lips,  longed  to  give  him  first- 
class  fare.  But  she  stood  in  awe  of  her  mother. 
It  was  not  Polly's,  it  was  Mrs.  Wix's  fault  that 
Swefling  was  given  the  shabbiest  attic  bedroom  in  the 
hotel,  blankets  whose  wool  had  long  been  washed 
away,  sheets  with  holes  in  them,  and  a  chaff  pillow. 
Indeed,  when  after  a  shrewd  look  at  him  Mrs.  Wix 
had  inquired  what  his  profession  was,  and  he  had 
replied  with  much  pride  and  satisfaction  that  he  was 
a  hansom  cabman,  she  declared  that  it  was  necessary 
to  draw  the  line  somewhere.  It  was  part  of  her 
policy  to  subject  new  and  doubtful  persons  to  a 
kind  of  quarantine,  and  she  placed  them  in  purga- 


92  THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTEE 

tory  before  she  admitted  them  to  paradise.  Swefling 
stated  that  he  wanted  only  bed  and  breakfast  and 
the  Sunday  supper,  because  on  every  other  night  of 
the  week  he  was  on  the  streets  till  very  late,  and, 
of  course,  he  took  his  meals  in  taverns  during  the 
day.  When  Mrs.  Wix  asked  him  what  his  weekly 
profits  amounted  to,  he  demanded  what  business  it 
was  of  hers. 

"  Fluff  it !  "  says  she,  "  we  Ve  got  to  be  careful, 
for  all  sort  of  fop  doodles  comes  here,  as  if  it  was 
a  beggars'  hotel." 

Then  she  looked  him  up  and  down  again,  and 
became  less  churlish,  when  he  seemed  indignant  at 
such  treatment,  and  was  on  the  point  of  going  away. 
So  that  after  he  had  tabled  a  week's  payment  in 
advance,  Mrs.  Wix  permitted  his  modest  trunk  to 
be  carried  up  the  interminable  stairs  by  Wurm,  who 
with  many  a  "  Mein  Gott !  "  deposited  it  on  the 
floor.  Very  cautiously,  very  cunningly,  very  timidly, 
Polly  suggested  that  Mr.  Swefling  should  be  granted 
a  room  on  the  floor  immediately  beneath,  and  gave 
as  the  reason  that  since  he  came  in  so  late  at  night, 
he  disturbed  the  other  boarders,  for  he  usually  rushed 
up  the  stairs  three  at  a  time.  She  met  her  mother's 
eyes,  and  quailed. 

"  You  rag  bag !  "  said  Mrs.  Wix,  "  what  do  you 
know  'bout  the  time  'e  comes  in?  You  worthless 
wretch,  disgracin'  yourself  by  makin'  eyes  at  a  cab- 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER  93 

man.     I  '11  turn  'im  out,  and  'e  can  sleep  with  his 
cab  horse." 

Polly,  as  pale  as  a  muffin,  fell  into  one  of  those 
weeping  fits  in  which  she  usually,  discharged  the 
energy  of  agitated  nerves. 

"  'E  can  go  and  eat  horse  steaks,"  continued  Mrs. 
Wix. 

What  imp  of  boldness  suggested  to  Polly  the  with- 
ering retort  — 

"  He  's  come  to  the  right  place,  then.  Wy,  last 
Friday,  if  that  wasn't  —  " 

"  Scissors !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wix,  cutting  her 
short.  "  You  moonsick  wretch,  you  '11  not  put  pepper 
in  my  eyes.  Say  another  word,  and  out  'e  '11  go. 
I  can  pick  and  choose,  and  don't  have  no  need  of 
cabmen  and  gutterbloods." 

"  Ye  'd  skin  a  razor,"  said  Polly,  contemptuously, 
and  took  no  part  in  the  service  during  three 
days. 

For  that  was  the  only  mode  of  revenge  in  which 
she  was  able  to  indulge,  and  it  gave  her  genuine 
comfort  when  she  knew  that  she  was  upsetting  the 
house.  It  was  really  her  interest  in  Swelling  that 
was  the  means  of  restoring  her  to  life  and  duty. 
Twice  she  had  seen  him  come  in  at  midnight  in  his 
smart  silk  hat,  and  she  had  served  him  in  the  parlour 
with  a  glass  of  bitter.  If  cotton  sheets  of  a  some- 
what better  quality  were  slipped  on  to  his  bed,  if  a 


94  THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTEK 

tattered  but  not  uncomfortable  easy-chair  was  placed 
in  his  room,  and  if  a  faded  toilet  cover  was  made  to 
conceal  the  nakedness  of  a  ramshackle  table,  and  if 
the  stain  on  the  carpet  was  covered  by  a  mat,  he  had 
to  thank  Polly.  Mrs.  Wix  seldom  climbed  that  stair 
except  when  she  had  something  disagreeable  to  say 
to  Herr  Habenichts,  whose  room  was  next  Swefling's. 
So  that  Polly  was  able  to  bestow  her  generous  atten- 
tions in  comparative  safety.  Nay,  one  night  when 
Mrs.  Wix  was  in  profound  slumbers,  Wurm  was 
sent  toiling  up  with  a  plate  of  hot  mutton  and  greens, 
and  a  bottle  of  ale,  which  he  presented  to  Mr.  Richard 
Swefling,  with  Miss  Polly  Wix's  compliments. 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  be  able  to  announce  that  Mr. 
Swefling  returned  thanks  for  these  amenities  with  a 
sincere  heart  and  in  the  best  style.  But  his  affec- 
tions were  wholly  elsewhere.  Polly  noticed  a  sudden 
change  in  his  entire  demeanour  on  that  Sunday  morn- 
ing. He  had  given  her  a  friendly  wink,  and  a  smile 
every  time  he  had  met  her  on  the  stair  or  in  a 
passage,  but  now  his  face  was  not  only  smileless  but 
fierce.  She  wondered  what  had  happened  to  him, 
and  desired  to  ask  if  he  were  ill.  On  various  and 
idle  pretexts  she  had  entered  the  second  parlour, 
but  she  had  found  him  hour  after  hour  sitting  glum 
on  the  horse-hair  chair,  apparently  indifferent  to 
her  presence,  and  dead  to  the  world.  For  the  fifth 
time  she  entered  to  ask  if  Herr  Habenichts  was  in 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER  95 

the  room,  although  she  had  just  seen  him  go  upstairs. 
In  spite  of  the  long-legged  stranger  who  still  sat 
opposite  Swelling,  and  whose  presence  Polly  resented, 
she  took  courage,  and  actually  addressed  a  personal 
question  point-blank  to  the  man  whom  she  believed 
to  be  the  smartest,  horsiest,  most  cavalierrlike  gentle- 
man in  London. 

"  Lor'  love  you,"  she  said,  "  whatever  is  the 
matter  ?  " 

Swefling  looked  up,  liked  the  tone  of  her  voice, 
felt  its  sympathy,  nodded  and  smiled,  and  replied  — 

"  Don't  worry,  Miss  Polly.     /  'm  all  right !  " 

Whereupon  Polly  felt  her  bosom  heave,  and  she 
retreated  in  confusion. 

"  That  foxy-'aired  gal,"  said  the  six-foot  stranger, 
"  is  a  nice  bit  o'  muslin." 

"  She  is,"  said  Swefling,  still  in  his  trance  and  his 
monosyllables. 

He  had  been  seeing  scarlet  throughout  the  after- 
noon. But  the  man  opposite  was  so  persistent  in 
questions  and  observations  that  Swefling  at  last  began 
to  survey  him  in  detail.  He  had  a  lean  look,  hungry 
cheeks,  and  now,  since  the  incandescent  gas  bracket 
had  been  lit,  his  face  was  seen  to  be  amazingly  pale. 
When  his  eyeballs  moved,  there  was  a  flash  in  them 
which  seemed  to  illuminate  a  care-haunted  counte- 
nance. The  moustache  was  black,  but  not  abundant, 
the  jaw  was  powerful,  the  lips  were  thin,  and  al- 


96  THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

though  the  forehead  sloped  slightly,  there  were  signs 
of  a  certain  concentration  and  resoluteness  of  pur- 
pose above  the  eyebrows,  signs,  indeed,  of  a  struggle 
for  self-mastery  which  had  failed.  Since  the  month 
was  January  the  stranger  was  unseasonably  clothed. 
In  fact,  he  wore  a  dark  blue  striped  suit  of  Saxon 
flannel  which  had  been  bought  second  hand,  and  had 
been  worn  during  two  months  of  the  preceding 
summer  by  the  best-dressed  man  in  Mayfair,  who 
invariably  disposed  of  his  cast-off  garments  for  cash. 
The  necktie  and  the  linen  were  not  those  of  a  really 
prosperous  person,  and  the  watch  chain  was  made  of 
nickel.  But  there  was  an  air  of  pseudo-refinement, 
the  look  of  a  man  who  tried  hard  to  varnish  himself 
up  as  a  gentleman.  He  wore,  moreover,  patent 
leather  boots  with  kid  uppers,  which,  although  they 
had  been  bought  as  a  misfit,  were  regarded  admir- 
ingly by  their  present  owner. 

"  Strike  me  blind ! "  exclaimed  Swelling,  "  if  I 
yave  n't  seen  you  before." 

The  stranger  reddened  and  winced,  and  then 
looked  straight  at  Swefling,  and  began  to  smile. 

"  You  were  drivin'  a  growler  then,"  said  the 
stranger. 

"  Yes,"  admitted  Swefling,  not  wholly  pleased, 
because  he  considered  a  four-wheeler  a  poor  thing. 

"  That  was  two  years  ago,  and  only  for  a  month  to 
oblige  old  Larkin,  but  I  Ve  got  a  'ansom  now,  tip  top." 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER  97, 

"  It 's  a  bit  odd  that  we  should  strike  up  against 
each  other  'ere." 

"  I  never  heard  tell  of  your  name,  though,"  said 
Swefling. 

"  Ridpath.  I  s'pose  it 's  been  often  enough  in  the 
papers,"  observed  the  celebrity.  "  And  so  you  're 
the  chap  wot  drove  me  and  the  two  beaks  to  'Olloway. 
Well!  Well!" 

"  Yes,"  said  Swefling.  "  'Ow  long  did  they  give 
you?" 

"  Got  six  months  'ard  that  time,  but  I  broke 
down  at  Wormwood  Scrubbs,"  said  Eidpath.  "  O 
Lor'  ! " 

Swefling  had  no  desire  to  make  Ridpath  uncom- 
fortable, and  intended  to  ask  no  more  questions. 
But  Ridpath  seemed  to  be  communicative,  and  be- 
gan to  talk  with  great  freedom. 

"  Want  my  story  ?  Don't  mind  tellin'.  No  chance 
for  us  fellers  that  gets  their  lights  put  clean  out. 
The  ticket  of  leave  's  as  good  's  a  leg  of  mutton  to  a 
dead  'oss.  In  fact  wuss.  Wy,  you  see  I  've  not  been 
out  three  months,  and  the  splits  '11  be  round  to  find 
out  if  I  'm  at  the  same  address.  And  that  means  the 
whole  show  '11  be  given  awy.  That 's  'appened  be- 
fore. Direckly  the  landshark,  wot  as  you  know 's  the 
landlady,  gits  findin'  out  that  you  Ve  been  in  quod 
she  gives  you  the  key  o'  the  street.  Out  you  goes, 
and  that  means  a  hempty  belly.  Wy,  I've  been 


98  THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

showed  out  of  three  doss  'ouses  all  along  of  splits 
comin'  arter  me." 

Here  Ridpath  stopped  to  sigh,  and  a  look  came 
into  his  face  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  saw 
his  whole  life  spread  before  him  as  in  a  map  with 
"  Move  on !  "  written  up  at  every  cross  road. 

"  Where  do  you  doss  ?  "  asked  Swefling.  "  You  're 
not  stoppin'  here  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ridpath,  "  I  dosses  above  a  grubbery 
in  Soho.  Came  'ere  jist  for  the  day  to  speak  to  that 
ole  swag  belly  Habenichts.  Orful  decent  ole  sort, 
though.  I  'm  'is  servant." 

"  Will  you  irrigate  ?  "  asked  Swefling. 

"  'Ere  's  'ow,"  replied  Ridpath,  readily,  and  Swef- 
ling rang  the  bell  which  Wurm  answered  with  his 
usual  promptitude.  He  certainly  did  not  deserve 
the  translated  soubriquet  of  "Worm,"  which  all 
Wixians,  except  Herr  Habenichts,  bestowed  upon 
him. 

"  What  poison  will  you  have  ? "  asked  Swefling. 

"  Scotch,"  said  Ridpath,  and  Wurm  was  ordered 
to  bring  two  Scotches  and  a  split  soda. 

"  Put  that  down  in  the  bill,  Worm,"  said  Swefling, 
grandly,  meantime  jingling  the  contents  of  his  right 
trouser  pocket,  as  if  to  defy  mankind  to  say  that  he 
could  not  pay  on  demand. 

"  Another  of  them  blessed  furreigners,"  remarked 
Ridpath.  "  Wot 's  to  become  of  us  I  'd  jist  like  to 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER  99 

know?  Wy  can't  they  stay  in  their  own  countries? 
And  wot  do  they  want  'ere  ? " 

"  Grub,"  answered  Swefling. 

"  Yes,  an  we  wants  it,  too.  It 's  jist  because 
life  's  sich  a  sweatin'  job  that  the  likes  o'  me  gets 
tripped  up  and  lagged." 

The  two  men  touched  their  glasses,  and  when 
Ridpath,  raising  his,  said,  "  'Ere  's  into  your  face !  " 
Swefling  topped  the  good  wish  by  replying,  "  I  'm 
thar."  The  exchange  of  these  salutations  seemed  to 
accelerate  sympathy,  and  Ridpath  continued  his  story. 

"  You  wants  to  know  wy  you  'ad  to  drive  me  to 
'Olloway  ?  "  he  began.  "  I  'ad  a  gal.  I  was  in  the 
fruit  trade,  packin'  and  unpackin'  thousands  o'  boxes 
at  a  big  place  jist  outside  Covent  Garden.  Eleven 
shillin's  a  week.  Starwation.  Lovely  gal,  though. 
Got  engaged.  Found  my  'ands  in  the  till  one  day. 
Guv'nor  a  coiny  cove.  Well,  I  wanted  to  give  the 
gal  a  treat  Said  she  would  like  to  see  the  panter- 
mine.  And  so,  as  I  said,  I  found  my  'ands  in  the 
till.  Fished  out  three  quid,  meanin'  —  I  swear  it  — 
meanin'  to  pay  back.  Orful  silly,  for  in  course  it 
was  sure  to  be  found  out.  Well,  we  goes  off  that 
night  and  'ad  a  riglar  smashin'  time,  and  a  good 
feed  in  a  restaurant.  Pantermine  stunnin'.  Felt 
a  big  paw  on  me  jist  as  we  was  leavin'  the  theayter. 
Turns  round,  sees  a  crusher.  Gal  in  'ysterics.  Orful 
scene.  Got  six  months  that  time,  pickin'  the  darned 


100         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

fibre,  makin'  mail  bags  wot  the  postmen  carries  the 
letters  in,  and  knittin'  stockins !  " 

At  this  point  Ridpath  laughed  so  loudly  and 
brought  his  hand  down  on  the  table  with  such  a 
bang  that  the  glasses  clattered  and  jumped,  and  the 
soda-water  bottle  began  to  sway  from  side  to  side, 
leaning  gracefully  like  the  tower  of  Pisa  until  finally 
it  toppled  over. 

"  Knittin'  stockins !  "  repeated  Ridpath.  "  I  al- 
most died  larfin',  and  jist  missed  losin'  my  marks 
for  it  when  they  brought  me  the  wool  and  the  sticks 
wot  you  knits  with.  You  see,  I  was  in  'ospital,  and 
'ad  gone  orful  seedy.  Well,  I  comes  out  at  last, 
expectin'  to  see  the  gal  at  the  prison  door.  In  course, 
she  was  n't  there,  for  she  was  married  to  a  sodger. 
That 's  wot  the  sex  has  done  for  me." 

"  You  Ve  never  been  in  again  ?  "  said  Swelling. 

"  My  eye !  Been  in  'eaps  of  times.  ~No  chance 
for  a  feller.  As  for  beggin'  I  despise  it.  Beggars 
'ave  the  'earts  of  chickens.  Down  on  their  knees  to 
every  one,  weepin'  and  'owlin'.  They  've  no  ker- 
acter,  can't  fight,  all  sneaks,  and  would  kiss  the  boots 
of  the  'tecs.  You  see  when  you  're  oil  yer  'inges, 
right  down  in  the  slush,  you  must  fight  for  yer  grub. 
But  I  've  never  taken  a  cent  from  a  man  wot  could  n't 
afford  to  lose  it.  Well,  a  hook  's  got  a  queer  life, 
I'm  too  tall,  too  easily  seen.  The  small  chaps  does 
better." 


THE   OLD  DA^CE  MASTER         101 

"  What 's  your  line  now  ?  "  asked  Swefling. 

"  That 's  wot  I  've  been  waitin'  for,"  said  Ridpath. 
"  Man  alive !  You  don't  use  yer  eyes.  You  saw  me 
last  night." 

"  I  'm  on  a  cab,"  said  Swefling ;  "  and  it 's  not 
likely  I  can  remember  all  the  people  I  see  on  the 
streets." 

"  Wy,"  retorted  Ridpath,  "  last  night  you  drove 
up  to  Jellini's,  and  I  was  standin'  in  that  bally  uni- 
form at  the  door.  Purty  gal  that !  " 

"  You  're  at  Jellini's  ? "  demanded  Swefling,  start- 
ing and  sitting  up  in  his  chair. 

"  I  thought  that  would  make  you  sit  up,"  observed 
Ridpath.  "  In  course,  I  'm  at  Jellini's,  'ead  porter 
and  bottlewasher ;  but  you  were  lookin'  too  much 
arter  that  gal  in  the  pink  cloak  to  see  me.  That 
gal 's  a  duchess." 

Swefling  reddened,  and  kicked  the  fender  as  he 
crossed  his  legs. 

"  You  know,"  continued  Ridpath,  "  ole  Habe- 
nichts  took  me  on  as  porter.  I  went  complete  stoney* 
and  'ad  n't  a  feather  to  fly  with.  Was  turned  awy 
from  door  to  door,  and  wanted  to  blow  my  brains 
out.  I  was  right  down  in  the  mud  honey.  Sleepin' 
in  the  parks  and  on  the  hembankment.  Lor,  the  cold ! 
I  hates  cold.  Well,  one  day  I  was  passin'  down  the 
Totten'am  Court  Road,  and  I  sees  a  ticket  at  Jellini's, 
'.Wanted  a  Porter!'  In  I  goes,  jist  desperate, 


102          THE   OLD  DANCE   MASTER 

straight  into  a  room  where  I  sees  old  what  de  ye 
call  'im,  teachin'  a  polka  and  dancin'  hisself.  I 
nearly  died  larfin'.  He  told  me  to  wait,  and  when 
he  came  out  I  thought  it  would  be  better  to  open 
the  whole  kit  to  'im.  And  so  I  said  I  was  jist  out 
of  prison,  and  told  'im  everythink.  '  I  vould  like 
to  help  you/  says  he.  '  I  like  dis  frankness,  and  I 
know  de  temptations  and  de  struggles.  Kom  here, 
vill  you,  and  speak  to  me,  and  look  me  straight  in 
de  face  as  to  a  broder.' 

"  By  Jove,  the  ole  feller  'ad  me  there  and  talked 
to  me  no  end  jist  as  if  he  'ad  been  my  mother. 
And  so  I  made  no  bones,  and  told  him  straight  out 
I  was  a  hook.  Then  he  said,  '  I  haf  been  holped 
by  de  Engleesh,  and  I  vill  help  oders.  You  promise 
never  to  do  such  ting  again?  Give  me  your  hand, 
my  boy.  I  don't  tink  dat  you  haf  a  vicked  face/ 
So  we  shook  a  paw,  and  he  took  me  on  and  put  me 
in  the  uniform.  I  've  got  more  winks  in  that  livery 
from  gals  than  I  've  ever  'ad  all  my  life.  Oh,  it 's 
a  great  place,  Jellini's,  mind  you,  I  talks  again' 
furreigners,  but  I  'd  carry  ole  Habenichts  shoulder 
'igh.'' 

"  You  'd  have  something  to  carry,"  observed 
Swefling,  smiling  for  the  first  time  that  day,  and 
attempting  to  shake  off  his  sullenness. 

"You  bet!  "  said  Ridpath;  "but  it's  ole  Habe- 
nichts, a  furreigner,  wot's  kept  me  alive.  Wot 'a 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         103 

that  gal's  name,  by  the  way  ?  I  've  seen  'er  often. 
She  comes  on  the  Tuesdays  with  the  best  pupils; 
but  I  've  seen  'er,  arter  the  class,  nmnin'  'ome  as 
fast 's  a  rabbit.  And  oo  'a  the  great  toff  that  went 
off  with  'er  ?  Where  did  you  drive  them  to  ? " 

Ridpath  winked  and  laughed,  but  not  long,  be- 
cause he  saw  a  dark  scowl  on  Swelling's  face. 


CHAPTER   SIXTH 

"  CARRY  me  out !  Wot  the  blazes  are  you  cuttin' 
up  rough  for  ? "  inquired  Ridpath,  half  rising  from 
his  seat,  because  Swelling,  too,  had  risen  and  was 
looking  angry. 

When  no  answer  came,  and  when  Swelling  seemed 
to  be  about  to  quit  the  room  in  dignity  and  dudgeon, 
Ridpath  called  him  back. 

"  I  'm  sorry.  Did  n't  know,  reely.  But  a  guinea 
to  a  gooseberry,  you  love  that  gal,"  said  Ridpath,  in 
a  tone  of  unmistakable  friendliness.  "  All  tight, 
mate.  Steady !  We  're  feller  pilgrims.  Ain't  I 
been  tellin'  you  I  was  in  quod  all  along  of  a  gal.  And 
ever  since,  helm  's  a  lee.  There,  shake  a  paw." 

With  a  very  good  grace  Swefling  took  Ridpath's 
hand,  and  they  sat  down  again  opposite  each  other, 
not,  however,  before  Ridpath  had  put  fresh  coals  on 
the  fire. 

"  And  so  that 's  the  time  of  day,"  continued  Rid- 
path, but  halted  again  because  he  was  uncertain 
whether  Swefling  might  be  offended  by  any  further 
reference  to  the  subject. 

Swefling,  however,  seemed  to  be  thinking  deeply 

104 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         105 

on  the  same  matter,  and  after  a  few  moments  of  si- 
lence began  to  speak. 

"  I  '11  horsewhip  him/'  he  said.  "  I  know  who 
he  is,  wot  he  is,  and  where  the  toad  lives.  And 
as  for  Dorrie,  if  she  dares !  I  '11  not  say  the  things 
I'll  do.  What  would  you  think  if  a  gal  you  was 
drivin'  in  a  'ansom  shook  'ands  with  you  through 
the  trap.  Wy,  ain't  that  a  sign  ?  Well,  I  've  allus 
loved  'er  and  been  wytin'  for  that  there  sign.  On 
the  'ead  of  it,  wot  does  I  go  and  do,  but  buys  a 
ruby  ring  just  to  be  prepared,  and  to  give  it  'ex 
as  I  was  drivin'  'er  'ome.  But  that  toad  and  wiper 
Marduke  —  for  I  'card  Dorrie  say  the  name  to  Mr. 
Larkin  in  the  yard  —  went  'ome  with  'er  in  the 
cab,  me  drivin'  'em  both.  If  I  'ad  'ad  a  pistol  I 
would  'ave  shot  'im  through  the  trap!  But  I  gave 
it  'im,  though,  before  'is  own  door.  I  flung  the  fare 
in  's  face,  the  whole  shoot,  and  began  on  'im  with 
my  whip,  but  that 's  not  arf  what  'e  '11  get  yet, 
notarf!" 

"  Let 's  see  the  ring,"  said  Ridpath,  moved  per- 
haps by  a  sudden  recurrent  instinct  in  other  people's 
property,  especially  jewellery. 

Swelling  took  his  precious  bijou  out  of  his  waist- 
coat pocket,  and  handed  it  to  his  new  singular 
acquaintance. 

"  Not  rubies,"  said  Ridpath,  after  a  critical  ex- 
amination. "  They  're  garnets." 


106         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

"  Shoot  that ! "  exclaimed  Swelling,  offended. 
"  What  d'  you  know  about  it  ?  What  are  you  talkin' 
about  ? " 

"  Any'ow,"  replied  Ridpath,  pitying  the  cabman's 
ignorance,  but  unwilling  to  contradict  him,  "  it 's  too 
good  for  'er." 

"What  right  have  you  to  say  so?"  demanded 
Swefling,  taking  back  the  ring. 

"  None,"  said  Ridpath,  meekly ;  "  but  tell  a  feller 
this.  Did  she  ever  make  love  to  you  ?  " 

"  What  would  she  shove  her  darned  pretty  little 
fingers  through  the  cab-roof  for  ? "  asked  Swefling, 
in  triumph. 

"  That 's  not  what  they  call  hevidence,"  Ridpath 
explained.  "  If  ev'ry  cabby  s'posed  ev'ry  lydy  wot 
shoved  'er  darned  purty  little  fingers  through  his 
cab-roof  was  in  love  with  'im,  wy,  cabs  would  be 
riglar  matrimony  boxes." 

Swefling  looked  dejected. 

"  Look  'ere,"  continued  Ridpath,  "  I  've  got  the 
trick.  I  'm  at  Jellini's,  and  sees  wot 's  a  goin'  on. 
Man  alive,  I  '11  do  the  'tec  for  you.  I  '11  let  you 
know  as  'ow  the  wind 's  blowin',  and  if  that  'ere 
toff  ever  comes  again  —  " 

"  Right  !  "  said  Swefling.  "  Roast  him  brown. 
Follow  him  like  a  split.  If  I  gets  him  I  '11  knock 
him  into  horse  nails.  I'd  like  to  yoke  him  to  the 
cab  and  make  him  go  hell  for  leather  till  he  dropped." 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         107, 

And  then  Swefling  smacked  his  knee  with  such 
force  that  he  made  his  skin  tingle. 

"  Where  did  you  drive  them  to  last  night  ?  Wot 
perticler  corner  of  the  flesh  market  does  that  sweet 
bit  o'  muslin  of  yourn,  that  little  article  of  virtue, 
belong  to  ? "  asked  Ridpath,  with  a  leer  and  a  wink. 

But  Swefling  rose  suddenly,  as  if  he  had  been 
stung  by  a  dragon-fly,  and  he  seized  the  poker  and 
brandished  it. 

"  Wy,  do  you  actually  insiniwate  ?  "  he  cried. 

But  at  this  moment  Herr  Habenichts  re-entered. 
When  he  saw  Swefling  advancing  with  uplifted  poker 
towards  the  middle  of  the  room,  as  if  to  attack  him, 
he  ejaculated,  "  Murder !  Was  fur  ein  kerl !  "  and  re- 
treated a  few  paces.  Ridpath,  however,  rose  and  ran 
to  the  door  and  brought  Herr  Habenichts  back,  assur- 
ing him  that  there  was  no  danger  and  that  Mr.  Swef- 
ling was  only  practicing  fencing.  WTiereupon  Herr 
Habenichts,  all  smiles  and  with  rosy  face,  apologised, 
took  up  the  tongs,  and  said  that  he  would  be  highly 
pleased  to  go  through  some  of  the  main  movements. 
And  so  before  Swefling  could  properly  realise  the  sit- 
uation he  saw  the  tongs  descending  upon  his  head,  and 
was  compelled  to  attempt  to  parry  the  blow.  When 
Herr  Habenichts  was  a  student  at  Vienna,  and  later  a 
lieutenant  in  the  Army,  he  acquired  a  great  reputa- 
tion as  a  swordsman,  and  Swefling  soon  discovered 
that  he  was  face  to  face  with  a  formidable  opponent, 


108         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

whose  quick  thrusts  were  actually  dangerous.  Herr 
Habenichts'  method  of  longeing  and  recovering,  and 
his  parades,  quarte,  tierce,  circle,  octave,  prime,  and 
quinte  brought  upon  his  adversary  the  fear  of  im- 
minent mutilation.  At  last  Swefling  called  for  quar- 
ter, and  confessed  that  he  had  never  fenced  in  his  life. 

"  Den  I  vill  teach  you,"  said  Herr  Habenichts. 

Without  more  ado  he  gave  his  new  pupil  a  lesson 
in  the  first  positions,  and,  after  he  had  showed  him 
how  to  defend  his  head,  his  breast,  his  shoulders, 
and  the  right  side  and  the  left  side  of  his  body,  he 
explained,  tongs  in  hand,  the  principles  of  making  the 
assault  or  playing  loose,  quarte,  and  tierce.  When 
a  little  out  of  breath  Herr  Habenichts  paused  to 
state  his  opinion  that  he  had  always  found  fencing 
to  be  not  only  an  excellent  physical  but  also  a  very 
valuable  mental  and  moral  discipline,  teaching  alert- 
ness, patience,  and  good  temper.  In  fact,  he  was 
already  launched  upon  a  lecture  while  the  two  men 
listened  to  his  description  of  life  as  a  great  fencing 
match  in  which,  no  matter  what  the  issue,  the  com- 
batants should  always  shake  hands  at  the  close. 
True  to  his  own  precept  he  at  once  shook  hands  with 
Swefling,  and  said  that  he  felt  as  if  he  had  made 
a  new  friend.  And  so  in  good  humour  all  three  sat 
down  beside  the  fire. 

"  Suck  some  corn  juice  ? "  asked  Swefling,  while 
Herr  Habenichts  stared  wide-eyed  and  said  that  he 
did  n't  understand. 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         109 

"  'E  's  askin'  you  to  go  and  see  the  baby,  sir," 
said  Ridpath. 

"Debaby?    Vat  baby?" 

"  That 's  the  lingo  for  hinvitin'  you  to  'ave  a 
drink,"  Ridpath  explained. 

"  Vith  pleasure,"  replied  Herr  Habenichts,  and 
bowed  towards  the  cabman,  while  Ridpath  rang  the 
bell 

When  Wurm  returned  with  the  drinks,  he  looked 
hard  at  Herr  Habenichts  as  if  astonished  to  find 
a  fellow  countryman  indulging  in  "  visky."  Swef- 
ling,  again  in  a  lordly  way,  ordered  the  drinks  to 
be  put  in  his  bill.  The  three  men  then  settled  down 
as  if  determined  to  enjoy  each  other's  company. 
For,  except  at  Jellini's,  Herr  Habenichts  did  not 
treat  Ridpath  as  a  servant.  It  was  one  of  his  max- 
ims that  in  order  really  to  get  to  know  people  you 
must  treat  them  as  equals. 

"  Laugh  vile  it  is  day,"  said  Herr  Habenichts, 
raising  his  glass  and  clinking  it  first  against  Swef- 
ling's  and  then  against  the  porter's,  "  vor  de  night 
cometh  ven  no  man  can  laugh." 

"  Mr.  Swefling,"  observed  Ridpath,  while  Swefling 
signalled  to  him  to  desist,  "  'as  n't  been  in  much  of 
a  larfin*  mood.  All  square,  mate.  Let  me  flow. 
It 's  this,  Mr.  Habenichts.  That  young  gal  wot  was 
dancin'  last  night  with  the  toff  —  " 

"  Vith  Mr.   Marduke  ? "   interposed  Herr  Habe- 


110          THE   OLD  DANCE   MASTER 

nichts,  while  the  clouds  gathered  again  on  the  cab- 
man's face. 

"  Yes.  Well,  don't  yer  know,  that  gal  'a  Mr. 
Swefling's  gal,  and  there  's  goin'  to  be  a  row.  Won't 
yer  kick  'im  out  the  next  time  he  turns  up  at  Jel- 
lini's  ?  "  suggested  Ridpath. 

"  Kick  him  out  ? "  repeated  Herr  Habenichts, 
raising  his  stout  little  hands.  "  Tim  Gottes  Willen ! 
Kick  avay  de  son  of  my  patron.  Anyting  possible 
but  dat." 

Swefling's  eyes  were  fixed  and  glaring  on  Herr 
Habenichts,  who,  when  he  turned  and  saw  them,  gave 
a  start. 

"  Oh,  but  I  don't  mean  to  say,  Mr.  Svevling,  dat 
I  approve  altogeder.  Sir  Marduke  is  in  de  most 
tropical  of  de  tempers.  But  dat  young  Marduke 
vould  never  marry  Miss  Larkin." 

"  It  would  be  sich  a  lark,"  interposed  Ridpath. 

"  Vat  ?  "  said  Herr  Habenichts.  "  I  don't  onder- 
stand.  De  young  man  mean  noting  at  all.  Just  de 
generous  impulse  of  de  moment  to  show  dat  he  had 
no  pride,  and  dat  he  admired  de  sveet  Engleesh  girl." 

Again  Swefling's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  philos- 
opher. 

"  I  see  dat  you  suffer.  Oh,  damn !  But  it  vill 
come  to  noting.  De  lady  is  your  lady  and  vill  be 
true  to  you.  Not  ?  But  yes.  I  trink  to  you  both," 
said  Herr  Habenichts,  beaming  and  raising  his  glass. 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         111 

Swefling  now  smiled  sadly,  thanked  Herr  Habe- 
nichts, and  once  more  took  the  hand  which  was  out- 
stretched to  him. 

"  Yes,  yes.  I  alvays  say  dat  de  best  vay  to  treat 
vith  people  is  vith  de  kindness,  nations  and  individ- 
uals, just  de  same." 

"  Mr.  Swefling  is  goin'  to  roast  Marduke  alive," 
said  Ridpath,  to  the  believer  in  arbitration.  "  Don't 
you  see  'e  's  afraid  that  that  young  ape 's  goin'  to 
mismarry  the  gal  —  make  'asty  puddin's  ?  " 

"I  not  onderstand,"  replied  Herr  Habenichts. 
"  Vot  haf  puddin's  to  do  vith  it  ?  But  I  know  dat 
de  Marduke  vamily  is  de  most  honourable  in  London. 
Vere  vould  I  be  vithout  Sir  Marduke  ?  He  save  me 
vrom  de  abyss !  " 

"  Any'ow,"  remarked  Ridpath,  "  we  're  goin'  to 
keep  our  weather  eye  lifted." 

He  gave  a  friendly  nod  to  Swefling,  who  appeared 
to  be  struggling  with  his  own  gloomy  thoughts.  But 
there  was  something  so  genial  in  Herr  Habenichts 
that  Swefling  felt  drawn  towards  the  mild-eyed  el- 
derly man  with  the  paternal  air.  And,  moreover, 
Herr  Habenichts'  position  as  Dorrie's  teacher  seemed 
to  promise  that  his  advice  would  prove  to  be  valuable 
in  the  present  crisis  of  Mr.  Swefling's  affections. 
Ridpath  suggested  that  two  letters  should  be  written 
immediately,  one  to  Marduke  to  threaten  his  life, 
and  the  other  to  Miss  Dorothy  Larkin  to  demand  a 


112         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

clear  statement  of  her  exact  feelings  and  intentions. 
Herr  Habenichts  shook  his  head,  and  told  Swefling 
to  leave  the  matter  to  him  because  he  felt  certain 
that  he  would  succeed  in  preventing  any  possible 
catastrophe.  Meanwhile  Ridpath,  having  seized  a 
sheet  of  Mrs.  Wix's  note-paper  and  an  old  rusty  pen 
which  was  lying  across  a  rustier  inkpot,  began  with 
apparently  great  labour  to  write  a  letter. 

"  Are  you  married,  Herr  Habenichts  ? "  asked 
Swefling. 

"  No,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  gravely ;  "  but  I 
haf  written  a  book  about  love." 

"  Love-letters,  Herr  Habenichts  ?  " 

"  Ah,  dat  too  !  "  replied  the  philosopher  in  a  way 
which  showed  that  ancient  memories  were  being 
stirred.  "  I  vill  tell  you  ven  ve  know  each  oder 
better.  But  you  haf  not  got  my  name  right.  It  is 
Habieneechts,  and  de  ch  is  like  de  ch  in  Scotch 
loch.  Try  again." 

"  Habieneechts,"  said  Swefling. 

"  Dat 's  better.  You  are  smart.  Veil,  my  name 
means  dat  *  I  haf  got  noting.'  I  am  proud  of  it ; 
noting  but  my  good  temper!  Oh,  dat  makes  you  so 
rich!  Ah,  I  began  by  tinking  I  vould  be  a  great 
man  and  fill  Europe  vith  my  name.  And  now,  I  'm 
just  a  poor  dance  master!  It  matters  noting.  Vat 
says  Epictetus  ?  " 

"Who?"  asked  Swefling. 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         113 

"  An  old  Greek  dat  I  love.  He  says  dat  de  power 
and  de  greatness  and  de  serenities  and  de  beauties  and 
de  holinesses  are  all  inside  of  us,  and  dat  de  vorld 
outside  is  noting.  Now,  den,  be  a  man,  Mr.  Svevling. 
Corage!  I  vill  tell  her  your  great  love  vor  her.  I 
vill  speak  to  Dorrie.  I  vill  tell  her  dat  she,  my  best 
and  dear  dancer,  must  never  make  a  mauvais  pas!" 

Swening,  although  bewildered,  felt  inclined  to  rise 
and  embrace  Herr  Habenichts. 

"  You  will  go  to  the  yard  ? "  he  asked  in  excite- 
ment 

"  Most  certainly  I  go,"  replied  Herr  Habenichts. 

"  I  fetch  my  cab  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning," 
said  the  cabman.  "  I  '11  hang  about  for  you." 

"  I  vill  be  there  noon,"  said  Herr  Habenichts ; 
"  but  I  vill  not  haf  you  there.  Vetch  your  cab,  do 
your  day's  vork,  and  say  noting.  I  vill  see  you  here 
in  de  evening.  I  vill  sit  up  in  dis  room  vor  you." 

"  Herr  Habenichts,"  said  Swefling,  "  I  '11  drive  you 
round  Hyde  Park  in  a  carriage  and  pair." 

"  Tank  you,  mein  Kind,"  responded  the  philoso- 
pher. "  Aber  —  no  need.  Let  me  not  deceive  you. 
It  is  not  only  becose  of  you  dat  I  do  dis.  I  am  avraid 
of  Sir  Marduke !  Oh,  he  is  in  a  tempest !  " 

At  this  point  Ridpath  announced  that  he  had 
written  a  letter,  and  asked  permission  to  read  it. 

"Go  on,"  said  Swefling;  and  Ridpath  read  the 
following:  — 


114         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

"  To  Montague  Marduke,  Esq. 

"  BLUE-FACED  APE, 

"  I  don't  b'lieve  you  're  wortk  shakin'  a 
stick  at,  but  any  'ow  this  is  to  tell  yer  to  go  to  blazes. 
I  takes  my  affidavy  that  of  all  the  bad  heggs  you  're 
the  rottenest.  Shut  up !  Hands  off !  or  I  '11  take  the 
change  out  of  yer  and  ampertate  yer  chump.  The 
next  time  you  comes  to  Jellini's  or  Larkin's  yard 
there  '11  be  sich  a  lark  and  a  chucker-out  wot  '11  chuck 
yer  to  a  ploice  wot  ain't  so  werry  cold.  Now,  take 
that,  and  no  gammon.  Don't  go  large  any  more,  but 
sing  small. 

"  Your  HENEMY." 

While  those  sentiments  and  sentences  were  vigor- 
ously applauded  by  Mr.  Richard  Swefling,  they  were 
denounced  by  Herr  Hebenichts,  who  rose  excitedly 
and  declared  that  he  washed  his  hands  of  the  whole 
business.  He  pointed  out  with  much  vigour  that 
such  inhuman  thoughts  were  wholly  alien  to  his  prin- 
ciples of  universal  benignity,  and  that  although  God 
forbid  that  he  would  ever  shrink  to  meet  an  enemy, 
yet  God  also  forbid  that  he  would  fail  to  meet  that 
enemy  with  proper  courtesy. 

"  Blue-faced  ape !  Dat  handsome  young  man !  " 
he  exclaimed,  looking  very  angrily  at  Ridpath.  "  I 
von't  haf  it!  It  is  verboten!  I  vorbid  it.  Tear  it 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         115 

up  and  put  it  in  de  flames  dis  minute,  Ridpath,  or 
I  discharge  you." 

Crestfallen,  Ridpath  tore  his  masterpiece  into  mor- 
sels which  he  dropped  into  the  fire.  Nevertheless 
he  rewrote  his  letter  from  memory,  and,  unknown  to 
Herr  Habenichts,  it  was  duly  delivered  by  the  post- 
man at  Portland  Place  on  Monday  morning,  placed 
on  a  silver  tray,  and  presented  by  Riggs  to  Mr.  Monty 
Marduke.  Herr  Habenichts,  not  dreaming  of  such 
treachery,  turned  to  Swefling  and  told  him  that  he 
would  still  keep  his  promise  and  go  on  an  embassy  to 
Larkin's  yard.  Then  a  dreadful  noise  was  heard  in 
the  hotel  like  the  beating  of  tomtoms.  But  it  was 
only  Wurms  going  along  the  passages  with  his  gong 
to  announce  the  Sunday  supper.  Ridpath  took  his 
leave  after  he  had  received  some  instructions  regard- 
ing the  proper  heating  of  the  rooms  at  Jellini's  for 
the  next  evening's  classes. 

"  Kom,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  turning  to  Swef- 
ling, "  let  us  go  in  to  supper.  I  am  hongry." 


CHAPTER   SEVENTH 

EABLY  rising  was  the  rule  in  Larkin's  yard,  and  long 
before  the  eight-o'clock  postman  arrived,  Vardy,  the 
stable-boy,  and  old  Tom  Ruffin,  the  one-eyed  stable- 
man, had  rubbed  down  four  horses  that  had  been 
doing  night  work.  Besides,  Swelling's  cab  and  the 
other  day  cabs  had  to  be  wheeled  out  from  the  coach- 
houses to  be  cleaned,  much  harness  had  to  be  rubbed 
and  polished,  bedding  had  to  be  cleared,  hay  and 
straw  had  to  be  brought  down  from  the  loft,  and  oats 
had  to  be  measured  from  the  bins.  For  Sam  Larkin 
was  difficult  to  please,  and  he  believed  that  only  by 
keeping  his  horses  and  his  cabs  in  good  order  could 
he  compete  against  the  motors.  He  had  never  lost 
the  characteristics  of  a  farmer.  His  cab-yard,  al- 
though in  the  heart  of  London,  had  rather  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  farm-yard,  and  he  had  the  farmer's 
pride  in  a  neat  gig.  As  Dorrie  peered  through  the 
curtains  of  her  bedroom  window  she  observed  Vardy 
coming  out  of  one  of  the  stables  carrying  Audacity's 
nose-bag,  which  he  strapped  below  the  driver's  seat. 
She  could  also  see  across  the  neighbouring  roofs  the 

tower  of  St.  Pancras'  Church,  and  the  hands  of  the 

116 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         117 

clock  were  pointing  five  minutes  to  eight.  As 
the  hour  struck  Swelling  walked  into  the  yard.  Au- 
dacity was  already  yoked  and  waiting  for  him,  and 
was  pawing  the  ground  and  sniffing  the  keen  air  of 
that  January  Monday,  and  snorting  and  remember- 
ing just  such  a  hunting  morning  on  the  downlands 
long  ago.  Swefling  gave  him  a  kiss  on  the  soft, 
silky  nose,  and  then  a  pat  on  the  neck,  and  after  he 
had  nodded  to  Vardy  he  glanced  up  at  the  window, 
but  he  saw  nothing  except  the  muslin,  curtains. 
Dorrie,  however,  was  able  to  detect  a  worried  and 
anxious  expression  on  his  face.  He  was  taking 
the  tall  whip  from  Vardy,  who  seemed  to  be  chaffing 
him,  for  Vardy  had  already  suspected  that  his 
swaggering  hero  was  in  love  with  the  governor's 
daughter.  And  his  quick  eyes  had  not  missed  the 
furtive  upward  glance  at  the  window. 

"  I  s'pose,"  he  said,  with  a  malicious  twinkling 
of  his  eyes,  "  you  Ve  got  'er  photigraph  under  yer 
shirt,  next  yer  buzzum  ?  " 

He  gave  a  loud  foolish  laugh,  and  then  Swefling, 
who  was  sitting  on  the  dicky,  made  a  cut  at  him  with 
the  long  whip  which  sent  him  running  to  the  stable 
door.  After  another  glance  at  the  curtained  window, 
our  sad  Romeo,  while  the  words  "  Next  yer  buz- 
zum !  "  were  again  shouted  after  him,  drove  through 
the  gate  at  a  trot 

Dorrie  had  been  aware  during  some  months  that 


118         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTEE 

Swelling  was  attempting  to  win  her  favour.  But 
lest  any  one  blame  her,  it  should  be  announced  at 
once  that  although  she  had  a  friendly  regard  for  him 
she  had  never  entertained  any  other  feeling.  That 
episode  of  the  hands  in  the  cab  was  perhaps  inju- 
dicious, and  it  was  certainly  unfortunate,  but  it  was 
meant  only  as  an  act  of  sympathy  and  gratitude,  and 
nothing  more.  Swefling's  coming  troubles  were  all 
of  his  own  creation.  Nevertheless,  Dorrie  was  sorry 
for  him,  and  felt  that  perhaps  she  had  made  a 
mistake.  It  was  usual  for  her  to  come  down  into 
the  yard  every  morning  about  a  quarter  before  eight 
to  scatter  Indian  corn  among  the  hens.  And  then 
she  always  patted  Audacity  while  she  had  a  talk  with 
Swefling.  Her  absence  on  the  present  occasion 
pained  her  admirer  and  increased  his  suspicions, 
and  had  it  not  been  for  Vardy  he  would  have  lingered 
in  the  yard.  The  fact  was,  however,  that,  even 
although  Dorrie  had  been  so  disposed,  she  could  not 
have  come  down  into  the  yard,  because  she  was 
locked  in  her  room,  and  Mr.  Larkin  had  the  key  in 
his  pocket.  The  hens,  accompanied  by  a  handsome 
old  white  cock,  with  a  very  crimson  comb,  grouped 
themselves  about  the  entrance  door  in  expectation  of 
seeing  Dorrie  and  her  plate  of  corn.  The  old  cock 
crowed  diligently,  as  if  to  call  her  down,  and  the  hens 
"tuked-tuked"  their  hardest,  but  at  last  they  went  off 
one  by  one  to  pick  up  on  their  own  account  any  grains 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER    119 

which  had  dropped  from  Audacity's  nose-bag.  The 
milk-cans  were  standing  on  the  step,  and  the  post- 
man had  come  in  with  two  letters,  which  he  dropped 
into  the  letter-box,  and  the  morning  newspaper  was 
lying  flapping  against  the  door.  But  the  household 
seemed  to  have  overslept  themselves,  and  now  and 
again  Vardy,  in  the  midst  of  scrubbing,  and  hosing, 
and  hissing,  looked  at  the  windows,  the  blinds  of 
which  were  still  drawn  down. 

The  winter  morning  fog  had  already  disappeared, 
and  in  the  clear  January  sunlight  the  white-washed 
walls  of  the  old  low-built  house  which  formed  a  right 
angle  with  the  stables  were  glinting  like  snow.  It 
was  the  cleanest  cab-yard  in  London,  for  Sam  Larkin 
had  brought  to  its  management  habits  which  he  had 
formed  in  the  country.  The  place  still  retained  an 
old-fashioned  look  amid  its  modern  surroundings. 
Till  about  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century  it 
had  been  a  well-known  inn  which  had  formed  a  con- 
venient pull-up  for  carriers  and  carters  between, 
London  and  the  northern  villages.  But  the  day  was 
long  past  when  from  the  roof  windows  nothing  but 
fields  could  be  seen  stretching  between  Bloomsbury 
and  Hampstead.  That  was  years  and  years  before 
a  railway  whistle  had  been  heard  in  Euston  and  St. 
Pancras.  Somewhere  in  the  lumber-room  there  was 
a  sign-board  with  Ye  Olde  Inn  painted  upon  it  in 
faded  blue  letters  on  a  white  ground,  and  in  the 


120         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

parlour  immediately  above  the  mahogany  sideboard 
on  which  Mrs.  Bleeks's  bowl  of  goldfish  stood  there 
was  an  oil  painting  of  the  inn  sign  —  a  bunch  of 
purple  grapes  with  a  foaming  goblet.  For  "  The 
Tankard "  had  been  the  inn's  name.  Through  its 
low  doorway  there  had  passed  many  a  gay  postilion, 
many  a  post-boy,  many  a  gentleman  in  ruffles  and 
breeches  and  full-bottomed  wig,  and  many  a  lady  in 
furbelow.  And  many  a  coach-and-six  had  put  up  in 
the  yard.  The  old  tap-room  which  was  now  Sam 
Larkin's  kitchen  had  heard  the  carousal  which 
greeted  the  news  of  Blenheim,  Malplaquet,  and 
Waterloo,  while  the  horses  were  munching  oats  and 
hay  at  war  prices  in  the  stables.  In  the  house  the 
passages  were  long  and  narrow,  and  the  ceilings  were 
low,  and  much  of  the  furniture,  together  with  one  or 
two  old  eight-day  clocks  which  Sam  Larkin  had  taken 
over  with  his  long  lease,  dated  from  the  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  Once  inside  the  yard  gate  it  was 
difficult  to  believe  that  the  place  was  ringed  round 
by  dingy  streets.  But  the  hum  of  wheels  from  the 
Euston  Road,  and  the  noise  of  engines  and  trains 
being  shunted  on  the  lines  of  one  of  the  great  railway 
termini  betrayed  the  traffic  of  London.  A  high  wall, 
however,  shut  the  yard  off  from  the  street,  and  the 
roar  of  the  city  was  heard  far  away  like  the  sound 
of  eddies  in  the  ocean.  Some  of  the  old  bushes  were 
still  growing  out  of  the  flower-beds,  and  leaning 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         121 

against  the  house  wall,  and  every  June  a  climbing 
rose  with  a  somewhat  dusty,  careworn  face  peeped 
into  Dome's  window.  The  loads  of  hay  and  straw 
and  the  sacks  of  corn  —  for  cab  horses  are  always 
hungry,  and  can  eat  eighteen  or  twenty  pounds  of  oats 
every  day  —  which  arrived  punctually  every  month ; 
the  horses  drinking  at  the  trough,  or  rattling  their 
halters  in  the  stalls ;  the  flock  of  pigeons  fluttering  on 
the  roofs;  and  the  fowls  stalking  about  the  yard, 
strengthened  the  illusion  of  any  visitor  that  he  had 
suddenly  found  himself  in  a  farm  in  the  core  of 
London. 

Hitherto  only  one  thing  had  been  necessary  to  make 
Dorothy  happy,  and  that  was  the  removal  of  her 
aunts,  whose  presence  she  loathed.  She  had  for  Sam 
Larkin  a  strong  affection,  although  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  her  surroundings  were  daily  becoming 
more  repellent.  The  common  ideals  and  coarse  ways 
with  which  she  was  too  familiar  were  making  restless 
a  girl  in  whom  the  artistic  sense  was  inborn.  For 
nature  makes  strange  mistakes,  and  sometimes  places 
a  coronet  on  a  head  that  should  wear  a  coster's  cap, 
and  a  coster's  cap  on  a  head  that  might  be  worthy  of 
a  coronet.  Vague  longings  for  a  larger  world  had 
begun  to  disturb  Dorothy,  whose  present  horizon 
seemed  pitiably  foreshortened  and  dull.  To  be  told 
when  she  was  reading  books  or  studying  pictures  that 
she  was  only  giving  herself  airs  as  well  as  wasting 


122         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

time,  increased  her  thirst  and  hunger  for  a  new  life. 
And  yet  she  was  deeply  wounded  by  the  manner  in 
which  Mrs.  Bleeks  and  Mrs.  Muzzey  talked  about  her 
mother,  of  whom  she  had  a  miniature  portrait  fixed 
in  a  gold  locket  which  she  always  wore.  She  gazed 
at  the  sad  gentle  face,  and  wondered  how  it  was  pos- 
sible for  any  one  to  speak  unkindly  of  it.  But  even 
Sam's  brow  sometimes  became  clouded  at  the  mention 
of  his  wife's  name,  and  he  never  encouraged  Dorothy 
when  she  asked  questions  about  the  dead  Louise. 
Gradually  the  truth  broke  upon  the  girl  that  the  mar- 
riage had  been  unhappy,  while  the  insinuations  of 
Mrs.  Bleeks  and  Mrs.  Muzzey  deepened  the  impres- 
sion. Dorothy  knew  that  she  resembled  her  mother, 
and  that  this  hereditary  beauty  was  resented  by  the 
fierce  old  women.  When,  in  order  to  protect  her 
hands  from  the  effects  of  coarse  housework,  she  wore 
gloves,  she  was  compelled  to  endure  the  titterings  of 
her  aunts.  Yet  she  was  growing  independent  of 
them.  Twice  a  year  Sam  Larkin  handed  her  fifty 
pounds,  part  of  which  sum  she  spent  on  education, 
and  part  too,  it  must  be  confessed,  on  pretty  dresses 
and  a  little  jewellery,  a  fact  which  increased  the  envy 
of  Mrs.  Bleeks.  More  than  once  when  Larkin  was 
grumbling  about  bad  times,  and  was  threatening  to 
leave  the  cab-yard  for  ever,  Dorothy  refused  to  accept 
the  half-yearly  payment.  Larkin,  however,  hinted 
that  it  was  not  his  to  withhold,  and  that  it  had  been 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER          123 

bequeathed  by  Mrs.  Larkin  to  her  daughter.  When 
Dorothy  questioned  him  further,  he  merely  said  that 
she  would  touch  the  capital  when  she  was  of  age  and 
would  then  know  everything.  That  would  be  in  four 
years.  Meantime  it  was  only  her  affection  for  Sam 
Larkin  which  caused  her  to  remain  in  a  house  whose 
other  inmates  she  feared. 

Since  Saturday  night  the  Larkin  menage  had  been 
in  a  state  of  great  commotion  owing  to  the  sudden 
appearance  of  Mr.  Montague  Marduke  as  an  escort 
from  Jellini's.  The  insolent  suggestions  of  Mrs. 
Muzzey  and  Mrs.  Bleeks  might  have  been  heard  with 
contempt.  It  was  not  until  Sam  Larkin  began  to  up- 
braid his  daughter  and  to  threaten  to  send  her  packing 
into  the  country,  that  Dorrie  wept.  At  breakfast  on 
Monday  morning  the  three  set  upon  her  again,  and 
the  little  parlour  became  an  animated  theatre.  Sam 
Larkin  sat  scowling,  and  Dorothy  scarcely  ventured 
to  meet  his  angry  eyes.  In  a  loud  voice  Mrs.  Bleeks 
was  declaring  that  because  of  the  wickedness  and  bad 
habits  of  her  so-called  niece  she  had  lost  half  her  sleep, 
and  had  had  dreadful  dreams.  She  had  donned  her 
head-bandage  as  a  signal  of  what  she  had  suffered, 
but  this  time  it  was  the  left  eye  which  was  covered, 
while  the  knots  of  the  handkerchief  stood  upright 
again  like  rabbits'  ears.  Mrs.  Muzzey  likewise  com- 
plained of  pains  in  the  head  and  the  feet,  and  when 
Dorrie  ventured  to  suggest  that  it  was  rheumatism, 


124         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

Mrs.  Muzzey  turned  upon  her  and  exclaimed,  "  Oh 
no,  but  it 's  you,  you  nasty  wretch ! "  Dorothy 
was  pouring  out  the  tea,  when  suddenly  in  a  fit  of 
nervousness  she  allowed  the  heavy  stone  teapot  to  fall 
among  the  cups  and  saucers  which  were  forthwith 
shattered,  and  the  sugar  bowl  was  filled  with  a  brown 
fluid.  Sam  Larkin,  with  an  oath,  pushed  himself 
away  from  the  table,  and  said  in  a  roaring  and  over- 
whelming voice,  "  You  '11  pay  for  it,"  while  Mrs. 
Muzzey  seized  the  teapot  and  began  to  nurse  its 
broken  nose.  Dorothy  tremblingly  gathered  up  the 
fragments  of  crockery,  attempted  to  dry  the  table- 
cloth and  drain  the  sugar  bowl,  and  then  brought 
out  fresh  cups  from  the  sideboard.  Meantime 
Mrs.  Bleeks  pursed  her  lips  with  satisfaction,  and 
then  opened  them  to  deliver  her  opinion  on  the 
situation. 

"  Oh,  it 's  stunnin'  flash  to  dress  'erself  up  like  a 
painted  canary  in  'aypenny  feathers,"  she  said,  "  and 
be  driv  about  by  a  young  gent  wot 's  agoin'  to  be  a 
bar'net,  but  some  folks  goes  so  large  that  they  does  n't 
know  the  wy  to  'andle  a  teapot." 

"  You  're  right,"  remarked  Sam  Larkin,  while 
Dorothy  gave  him  one  imploring,  reproachful  glance. 

"  Me  and  Mary  Anne  's  been  tellin'  it  to  you  all 
the  time,  Sam,"  said  Mrs.  Muzzey,  allowing  the  tea 
to  gush  and  dribble  from  the  broken  teapot. 

"  I  could  n't  refuse  the  gentleman,"  pleaded  Dor- 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         125 

rie,  attempting  to  defend  herself,  but  breaking  into 
sobs. 

"  And  why  could  n't  you  ?  "  demanded  Larkin,  in 
a  menacing  voice.  "I'd  trust  you  now  just  as  far 
as  I  could  fling  a  bull  by  the  tail." 

"  That 's  it,  Sam,"  observed  Mrs.  Bleeks,  approv- 
ingly. "  As  if  we  all  ain't  'ad  our  temptations.  I  'm 
a  respeckable  woman,  and  I  does  n't  like  sittin'  at  the 
same  table.  It 's  dreadful  nasty  behavin'  in  sich  a  wy. 
The  yardmen  are  larfin'  at  'er  and  askin'  if  Swefling  's 
a  fancy  man  wot  brings  bad  keracters  to  Sam's  'ouse. 
'Ow  's  we  to  know  where  they  was  before  they  comes 
in  'ere?" 

"Ask  Swefling,"  exclaimed  Dorrie,  wild  with  in- 
dignation, while  her  eyes  flamed  behind  her  tears, 
"  and  he  '11  say  we  came  straight  from  Jellini's." 

"  Oh,  'e  '11  say  it,"  jeered  Mrs.  Bleeks,  "  in  course 
'e  will.  Wot  a  himage  you  're  makin'  of  yourself ! 
It 's  the  daringest  thing  I  've  ever  heered  on.  Sar- 
tinly,  I  agrees  with  wot  you  was  sayin'  last  night, 
Liza.  She  should  be  made  to  yarn  'er  grub.  She  's 
a  disgrace  to  'er  sex,  a-worritin'  poor 'Sam  in  sich  a 
wy.  Reel  crull.  I  would  n't  give  a  toss  of  sprats  or 
a  shant  of  gatter  for  'er.  Lor'  love  you,  Sam  dear, 
don't  be  a-worritin'  of  yerself .  Wot 's  she  to  you  ? 
It's  exterornary  wot  some  pirsons  thinks  of  their- 
selves.  Sich  an  idear!  She  thinks  that  a  piece  of 
square-rigged  gentry  is  goin'  to  marry  'er.  Oh  my 


126         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTEK 

daylights!  I  likes  that!  For  if  'e's  not  goin'  to 
marry  'er,  wot 's  he  goin'  to  do  ?  Oh,  the  lime  twigs 
for  the  bird!  Make  a  dress  lodger  of  'er,  eh?  Jist 
able  to  pay  doss  money  and  go  abaht  like  a  painted 
canary  ?  You  '11  be  good  game  for  the  C.  I.  D. 
Was  n't  I  right,  Sam  ?  It 's  in  the  blood,  and  it 's 
arter  'er  mother  she  takes." 

During  this  speech  Mrs.  Bleeks  kept  her  eye  fixed 
upon  Dorothy,  and  now  and  again  she  raised  her 
skinny  forefinger  and  shook  it  at  her  niece.  Sam 
Larkin,  however,  had  become  irritated,  and  he  rose 
hastily  from  the  table,  and  ordered  Dorothy  to  follow 
him  upstairs.  Glad  to  escape  from  the  two  women, 
she  walked  quickly  out  of  the  room,  determined  to 
explain  everything  to  her  father.  But  when  Larkin 
had  reached  the  top  of  the  stairs,  he  merely  opened 
the  door  of  Dorrie's  bedroom,  pushed  her  inside  and 
said  — 

"  It 's  not  like  my  Dorrie  at  all,  at  all,"  and  then 
locked  the  door  on  the  outside. 

He  and  Mrs.  Muzzey  were  going  to  Essex  that 
day,  so  that  it  was  Mrs.  Bleeks  who  was  left  in  charge 
of  the  key  and  the  prisoner.  Dorrie  spent  the  fore- 
noon sitting  at  her  window  and  looking  down  on 
the  yard  through  the  muslin  curtains.  Her  eyes  were 
wet  and  bloodshot,  and  yet  she  was  not  wholly  mis- 
erable. She  began  to  think  of  Marduke,  and  the 
spell  of  his  fascination  came  over  her  again.  She- 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         127 

thought  that  he  looked  like  a  soldier,  and  she  re- 
peated two  lines  which  had  pleased  her,  and  haunted 
her  and  which  she  had  found  in  a  poem  — 

"Thy  voice  is  heard  thro'  rolling  drums, 
That  beat  to  battle  where  he  stands." 

She  wondered  if  she  would  ever  see  him  again. 
She  looked  across  the  black  roofs  of  London,  and 
saw  that  it  was  exactly  one  o'clock  by  St.  Pancras' 
Church.  Then  she  rose  with  a  start,  for,  to  her  sur- 
prise, she  observed  Herr  Habenichts  walking  into 
the  yard.  According  to  his  promise  to  Swefling,  he 
was  to  be  there  at  the  stroke  of  noon,  but  the  reason 
of  his  delay  will  be  explained  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  EIGHTH 

IT  is  nearly  certain  that  if  Monty  Marduke  had 
gone  to  the  opera  with  Arabella,  Duchess  of  Berk- 
shire, he  would  not  have  met  Dorothy  Larkin,  and 
that  consequently  the  fortunes  and  the  misfortunes 
of  many  persons  in  this  history  would  have  been 
very  different.  But  the  events  which  await  narration 
are  too  numerous,  and  arrive  in  too  fast  pell-mell 
to  allow  time  to  pause  in  order  to  moralise  concerning 
chance  and  change.  Therefore  the  telephone  bell  at 
Portland  Place  will  continue  to  ring  and  the  Dow- 
ager will  continue  to  rage  at  the  other  end  of  the 
wire,  but  we  shall  listen  to  neither  of  them.  Besides, 
the  consternation  of  certain  London  hostesses,  who 
had  invited  Mr.  Monty  Marduke  to  divers  luncheons, 
dinners,  and  balls,  at  which  marriageable  daugh- 
ters were  to  be  paraded,  must  be  simply  ignored 
as  he  ignored  it.  For  we  are  compelled  to  follow 
his  quick  steps  into  the  far  humbler  quarters  in 
which  his  interest  and  his  excitement  were  now 
centred. 

"  Who  is  consistent,  you  or   I  ? "   he   asked  his 
father,  in  a  somewhat  abrupt  and  unfilial  tone  and 

128 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         129 

with  a  frown  which  was  unusual  on  so  pleasant  a 
face. 

Twenty-four  hours  of  silence  had  raged  between 
them,  and  matters  had  reached  such  a  disagreeable 
pass  that  even  Minnie  Marduke  now  passed  her 
brother  on  the  staircase  without  a  word  or  a  look  of 
recognition.  When  he  entered  a  room  she  left  it 
as  if  to  inform  him  that  his  company  contaminated 
her,  and,  if  he  happened  to  ask  for  an  explanation, 
she  refused  to  answer  him.  The  Marduke  pride  or 
vanity  had  been  thoroughly  roused,  and  no  such 
crisis  had  ever  occurred  in  the  family  history.  Sir 
John  secretly  trusted,  however,  that  the  unfortunate 
incident  at  Jellini's  would  be  forgotten,  and  that  his 
son  would  speedily  regain  common  sense.  Meantime, 
it  was  necessary  to  display  the  paternal  disapproval 
of  the  misdemeanour  by  an  attitude  of  coldness  and 
even  contempt.  It  was  hoped  that  the  youth  would 
thus  be  compelled  to  see  that  he  had  made  a  fool  of 
himself.  There  was  a  terrible  unrest  in  the  house- 
hold, and  Sir  John  and  Minnie  had  passed  a  sleepless 
night,  whereas,  in  the  case  of  Monty,  there  had  been 
the  sound  of  castanets  in  his  dreams.  It  was  now 
Sunday  evening,  but  the  experience  at  breakfast  and 
luncheon  had  been  so  intolerable,  that  the  youth 
decided  to  dine  at  his  club,  where,  if  he  spoke  to 
a  friend,  he  could  at  least  count  on  a  response.  But 
before  he  went  out  of  the  house  he  was  suddenly 


130         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

tempted  to  demand  an  apology  from  his  father.  Sir 
John  stared  at  him  icily  for  a  few  moments,  and 
then  Monty  laughed  in  a  bitter  way. 

"  Where,"  he  asked,  "  is  your  splendid  levelling 
doctrine  now  ? " 

"  I  level  up,"  retorted  Sir  John. 

"  Your  hope  that  the  day  will  come  when  the 
barricades  between  the  classes  will  be  thrown  down? 
Your  belief  in  the  essential  brotherhood  of  rich  and 
poor?  Your  pity  for  the  slaves  of  industry?  As  a 
matter  of  fact  is  not  Mr.  Larkin,  who  belongs  to 
the  old  yeoman  class  —  he 's  an  Essex  farmer,  a  land- 
owner, if  that  pleases  you  better,  for  he  owns  a  free- 
hold —  well,  I  say,  is  he  not  a  better  man  than  that 
great-great-grandfather  of  yours  who  owned  slaves 
and  slave  ships,  as  you  were  telling  me  last  night, 
and  who  made  the  fortune  of  which  you  are 
ashamed  ?  " 

"  Until  you  calm  yourself,  I  will  not  argue  with 
you.  I  will  not  even  speak  to  you,"  replied  Sir  John 
stiffly,  and  contemptuously,  although  his  heart  was 
wrung. 

It  so  happened  that  last  week's  newspapers  had 
been  full  of  reports  of  a  divorce  case  from  which, 
according  to  the  judge's  summing  up,  the  chief  lesson 
to  be  learned  was  the  folly  of  marriage  between 
persons  belonging  to  different  social  levels.  Sir  John 
had  drawn  a  thick  blue  pencil  down  the  two  sides 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         131 

of  a  leading  article  in  the  Times,  in  which  the  judge's 
comments  were  approved. 

"Read  that,"  he  said,  handing  the  newspaper  to 
his  son. 

But  Monty  was  in  no  mood  to  be  instructed  and 
dragooned,  and,  after  a  glance  at  a  few  sentences 
opposite  which  the  blue  marks  were  specially  violent, 
he  threw  the  newspaper  aside. 

"  At  the  first  encounter  with  a  real  opportunity  of 
proving  the  sincerity  of  your  great  theories,"  he  said, 
"  they  break  down." 

Sir  John  winced,  for  the  words  stung  him,  and 
he  sat  perturbed  under  the  uneasy  suspicion  that 
they  were  true,  and  that  the  protestations  of  a  life- 
time had  suddenly  been  made  to  appear  in  a  gro- 
tesque light. 

"  How  often  have  you  told  us  that  almost  all  the 
great  men,  the  leaders  in  everything,  came  originally 
out  of  the  people.  Just  the  other  day  you  were 
saying  that  Turner's  father  was  a  barber,  and  that 
Beethoven's  grandfather  on  his  mother's  side  was  a 
cook,  and  that  the  Emperor  Basil,  was  it,  was  a 
groom,"  continued  Monty,  as  if  attempting  to  parry 
by  anticipation  the  sneers  that  awaited  him. 

"  Be  reasonable,"  said  Sir  John.  "  There  is  no 
relevancy  in  what  you  are  saying,  none  at  all.  We 
are  talking  about  a  marriage  between  a  man  of  edu- 
cation and  a  certain  social  position,  and  a  girl  of  a 


132         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

very  humble  rank.  And  I  say  that,  sooner  or  later, 
only  unhappiness  can  result  from  such  a  union.  It 
is  the  commonplace,  threadbare  theme  of  novelists." 

"  Lady  Hamilton  was  a  kitchen-maid,"  said  Monty. 

"  You  have  chosen  a  very  unfortunate  instance," 
quickly  replied  his  father.  "  She  made  havoc  of 
the  lives,  she  brought  trouble  into  the  lives  of  at  least 
two  men,  and  she  died  in  squalor." 

"Miss  Larkin  is  a  girl  — " 

"What  do  you  know  about  her?"  demanded  the 
baronet,  turning  fiercely  upon  his  son.  "  You  are  a 
fool !  Don't  dare  mention  her  name !  " 

"  Miss  Larkin,"  repeated  Monty,  defiantly  yet 
quietly,  "  is  a  girl  of  great  accomplishments.  She 
is  an  artist.  She  is,  I  should  think,  infinitely  more 
cultured  than  half  the  girls  with  whom  I  have  danced 
in  London  drawing-rooms.  She  does  n't  play  bridge, 
perhaps,  but  she  reads  books  and  studies  pictures." 

"  I  warn  you,  before  it  is  too  late !  "  said  Sir  John, 
in  the  sternest  voice  which  Monty  had  ever  heard 
him  use.  "  Don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself,  and  your 
sister,  and  of  me." 

"  Supposing  you  gave  away  all  your  money,  we 
would  be  a  great  deal  poorer  than  Mr.  Larkin,"  con- 
tinued Monty.  "Why,  you  could  hardly  afford  to 
drive  about  in  one  of  his  cabs.  It  is  money  that 
makes  leisure  and  culture,  and  all  the  rest  of  it 
possible." 

"Do  I  deny  it?"  broke  in  Sir  John. 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         133 

"  If  you  gave  all  the  money  away  as  you  said  you 
should,  since  it  was  ill-gotten,  you  and  Minnie  and 
I  would  probably  sink  down  near  the  poverty  line. 
Well,  give  it  away.  I  am  going  to  marry  that  girl, 
and  we  '11  start  life  together." 

Sir  John  rose,  as  if  about  to  quit  the  room,  but 
his  son  preceded  him,  and  quitted  not  only  the  room, 
but  the  house,  and  went  to  dine  at  his  Military 
Club  in  Piccadilly. 

Now,  on  Monday  morning,  exactly  at  a  quarter 
past  nine  o'clock,  while  Herr  Habenichts,  who  was 
dressed  in  a  faded  purple  dressing-gown,  fastened  by 
a  cincture  of  tasselled  cords  round  his  ample  waist, 
was  drinking  in  his  own  room  a  cup  -of  Mrs.  Wix's 
coffee,  and  reading  "  Les  Heures  Claires,"  a  thump 
came  to  the  door.  After  permission  was  granted 
Wurm  entered  with  a  telegram.  A  reply  was  paid. 

"  Vat  can  it  be  ? "  exclaimed  Herr  Habenichts, 
tearing  open  the  brick-coloured  envelope,  and  finding 
that  the  telegram  contained  a  request  that  he  would 
present  himself  at  Portland  Place  at  noon. 

It  was  signed  "  Marduke,"  and  since  the  recipient 
guessed  that  it  was  from  the  baronet,  he  wrote  with 
some  trepidation  an  affirmative  reply,  and  handed  the 
form  to  Wurm. 

"  Ja ! "  he  said,  softly  to  himself,  as  he  buttered 
a  piece  of  toast.  "  Das  Shicksal !  " 

After  he  had  breakfasted,  he  took  his  stick  and 
tapped  against  the  wall  which  separated  his  bedroom 


134         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTEK 

from  Swefling's.  But  he  was  scarcely  surprised  at 
no  response,  because  lie  knew  that  Swelling  usually 
left  Wix's  before  eight  o'clock.  It  would  now  be 
impossible  to  keep  the  promise  made  to  the  cabman 
the  previous  evening,  because  between  ten  and  noon, 
Herr  Habenichts  gave  lessons  at  Jellini's.  While 
he  was  dressing  he  decided,  therefore,  to  go  to  Port- 
land Place  immediately  after  the  lessons  were  over, 
and  to  make  the  promised  visit  to  Larkin's  yard  on 
the  way  home. 

Punctually  at  noon  he  was  ringing  the  bell  at 
Portland  Place,  and  during  the  interval  of  waiting, 
he  kept  protesting  to  himself  that  since  he  was  inno- 
cent he  had  nothing  to  fear.  To  Riggs,  who  stood 
in  the  hall,  he  made  some  wholly  irrelevant  remarks 
regarding  the  weather  and  the  time  of  day,  and  it 
was  in  a  very  haughty  manner  that  Riggs  told  a  foot- 
man to  take  charge  of  the  visitor's  rather  outlandish 
overcoat.  Presently  Herr  Habenichts  found  himself 
in  the  library.  But  it  was  not  Sir  John  Marduke 
who  met  him.  It  was  Monty,  who,  with  smiling  face 
and  outstretched  hand,  made  him  very  welcome,  and 
asked  him  where  he  would  sit. 

"  Here,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  thanking  him,  and 
sitting  down  on  a  roomy  easy-chair  near  the  fire. 
"  I  had  a  vire  dis  morning.  Dat  vas  vrom  you,  Mr. 
Marduke?" 

"Yes,"  said  Monty,  "and  I  got  your  reply." 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         135 

Herr  Habenichts  unbuttoned  his  frock  coat,  and 
dropped  back  into  the  chair  with  a  slight  sigh  of 
relief. 

"My  father,"  continued  the  youth,  "has  gone 
to  Kensington  to  open  a  bazaar." 

"And  Miss  Marduke?" 

"  She  has  gone  with  him.  That 's  why  I  asked 
you  to  come  here,  Herr  Habenichts,"  replied  Monty, 
smiling  again.  "  I  knew  that  we  could  have  a  chat 
undisturbed.  Have  a  cigar  ?  " 

Herr  Habenichts  accepted  an  TJpmann  with  great 
pleasure,  and  began  to  smoke  peacefully.  Now  and 
again,  however,  he  fixed  his  gaze  in  a  rapt  manner 
on  the  rows  of  books,  and  apologised  for  not  answer- 
ing Mr.  Marduke's  questions  immediately.  Once  he 
rose  in  order  to  read  the  lettering  on  some  volumes, 
and  said  that  until  he  knew  the  names  of  the  books 
in  a  room  he  could  not  sit  still. 

"  Well,  I  wish  you  would  sit  still,  Herr  Habe- 
nichts, because  I  have  a  good  deal  to  speak  about," 
said  Monty,  taking  a  greasy  sheet  of  notepaper  out 
of  his  pocket.  "Do  you  happen  to  know  anything 
about  this  letter?" 

It  was  Ridpath's,  which  began  with  the  words 
"Blue-faced  Ape,"  and  while  Monty  read  every  word 
of  it  aloud,  Herr  Habenichts  blushed  and  moved  un- 
easily in  his  seat,  and  then  at  last  swore  in  German. 

"Dat  is  de  porter,  Unerhort.    I  vill  sack  him  to- 


136         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

day  for  disobedience/'  he  said,  apologising  for  his 
servant's  insolence. 

"  You  knew  about  it  ?  "  inquired  Monty. 

"  Yes,"  explained  Herr  Habenichts.  "  You  see, 
it 's  all  about  dat  blessed  Doroty.  They  are  avraid 
of  you!" 

"  Who  are  '  they '  ?  And  what  business  is  it  of 
theirs?"  demanded  Monty,  in  a  tone  which  made 
Herr  Habenichts  very  uncomfortable. 

"  Veil,  Svevling,  dat  cabman,  lives  at  Mrs.  Vix, 
you  know.  He  say  dat  he  loves  Dorrie.  De  cabman 
dat  drove  you  vrom  Jellini's  Saturday  night.  My 
porter,  Ridpath,  is  his  vriend  and  wrote  de  letter. 
De  cabman,  oh,  he  is  vild ! "  said  Herr  Habenichts, 
opening  his  eyes  wider,  and  displaying  in  them  an 
unusual  fire. 

"  I  see,"  said  Monty,  while  a  feeling  of  oppression 
and  disgust  came  over  him.  But  he  did  not  inform 
Herr  Habenichts  of  Swefling's  insulting  conduct. 

"  Yes,  dat  cabman,  but  goot  vellow,  and  I  told  him 
dat  you  could  never  be  his  rival  in  such  an  affair. 
You!  Nimmer!  Gott  bewahre!  I  said  dat  it  vas 
only  your  kindness  vich  is  hereditary  in  you,  being 
a  Marduke,  vich  make  you  mix  vith  my  pupils  and 
dance  vith  Miss  Dorrie." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Herr  Habenichts.  I  love  her," 
replied  the  youth,  "and  I  have  reason  to  think  that 
she  loves  me." 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         137 

"  Gerechter  Himmel ! "  exclaimed  Herr  Habe- 
nichts. 

"  I  am  so  much  in  love,  Herr  Habenichts,  that  I 
refuse  to  believe  that  any  one  could  be  my  rival. 
As  for  one  of  Mr.  Larkin's  men —  Really,  the 
idea  is  absurd.  That  girl  was  born  for  other  things. 
She  was  born  for  me." 

"  Du  liever  Gott !  "  moaned  Herr  Habenichts. 

"  I  'm  satisfied  with  your  explanation  about  this 
filthy  epistle,"  continued  Monty,  flinging  it  into  the 
fire,  where  it  was  immediately  consumed.  "  That 
was  one  of  the  reasons  why  I  asked  you  to  come.  I 
don't  care  a  damn  for  any  one,  Herr  Habenichts. 
I  'm  going  to  marry  that  girl.  Nothing  shall  alter 
my  determination.  If  I  were  in  your  own  country, 
or  in  Germany,  or  in  France,  or  Italy,  I  would  fight 
a  duel  for  her." 

Herr  Habenichts,  with  his  fatal  gift  of  sympathy, 
looked  admiringly  at  him. 

"  Bravo!  "  he  said.  "  I  like  it.  But  I  vill  per- 
suade you  it  is  wrong.  It  is  impossible !  " 

"  I  wish  you  to  give  her  this  little  parcel,"  said 
Monty,  holding  up  a  neat  package  tied  with  pink 
ribbon.  "  Is  she  to  be  at  Jellini's  to-day  ?  " 

Herr  Habenichts  shook  his  head. 

"  Really  ? "  asked  Monty,  as  if  doubting  whether 
Dorothy's  master  had  spoken  the  truth. 

"  It 's  the  troot,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  emphati- 


138         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

cally.  "  She  comes  Tuesdays.  Oh,  Mr.  Marduke, 
dis  vill  never  do !  " 

"  She  loves  me,  or  will  love  me,  I  know  it  by  her 
voice  —  by  my  own  instincts  —  by  everything,"  said 
the  youth,  pacing  about  the  room.  "You  will  give 
her  this?  If  I  sent  it  to  her  father's  address,  she 
would  never  receive  it." 

It  occurred  to  Herr  Habenichts  that  he  would 
not  be  abusing  Marduke's  confidence  if  for  the  mo- 
ment he  kept  silent  regarding  his  visit  to  Larkin's 
yard  that  afternoon.  He  expected  to  have  a  great 
influence  upon  his  pupil,  and  he  intended  to  per- 
suade her  not  to  consider  Mr.  Marduke's  attentions 
in  any  serious  light.  In  the  end  Marduke  himself 
would  be  grateful  for  being  delivered  from  an  indis- 
cretion. Herr  Habenichts  therefore  agreed  all  the 
more  gladly  to  act  as  a  go-between,  since  thereby  he 
would  be  likewise  serving  the  interests  of  his  patron, 
the  baronet.  This  kind  of  double  dealing  was  foreign 
to  his  nature,  but  he  believed  that  he  was  a  diplo- 
matist, born  to  bring  peace  among  men. 

"  You  are  a  topping  good  sort,  Herr  Habenichts," 
said  Monty.  "  Have  a  whisky  and  soda  ? " 

"  No.  I  tank  you,"  replied  Herr  Habenichts, 
taking  the  dainty  parcel.  "Vat  does  Sir  Marduke 
say  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Time  will  tell  him  what  to  say,"  observed  Monty, 
with  a  sapient  air.  "/  have  always  obeyed  my 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         139 

instincts,  and  they  have  never  played  me  false.  That 
girl!  By  Jove!  have  you  ever  seen  such  lovely 
eyes  ? " 

"Vondervoll,  vondervoll,"  acquiesced  Herr  Habe- 
nichts.  "  Like  Minerva !  " 

"  Diana !  "  suggested  the  delighted  Monty. 

"  Ach,  ja !  "  exclaimed  Herr  Habenichts,  feeling 
the  contagion  of  youth.  "  Love  prings  de  great  hour, 
and  makes  you  to  hear  de  ringing  of  de  silver  bell 
of  your  destiny." 

Monty  looked  at  him  admiringly. 

"You  are  a  topper,  Herr  Habenichts,"  he  re- 
peated. 

"  Sein  armes  Herz  ist  Liebekrank,"  said  Herr 
Habenichts,  thinking  aloud,  and  then  beginning  to 
quote  a  poem,  for  he  had  an  encyclopaedic  knowledge 
of  European  literature  — 

"'Wine  of  youth,  life,  and  the  sweet  deaths  of  love, 
Wine  of  immortal  mixture  I' 

An  Englishman  said  dat.    But  haf  you  read  Goethe  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Monty. 

"Ah!  Read  *  The  Bride  of  Corinth.'  Vonder- 
voll, vondervoll !  " 

Herr  Habenichts  paused.  He  had  gone  too  far, 
and  suddenly  recollecting  himself,  he  said  — 

"But  I  do  not  encourage  you.  Oh,  no!  I  say, 
vorget  her." 


140         THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

"  I  could  as  soon  forget  that  there  is  a  sun  in  the 
heavens,"  replied  the  youth,  drunk  with  delight. 

"  Or  a  star  in  de  morning,"  said  Herr  Habenichts, 
relapsing  involuntarily  into  sympathy,  and  sharing 
for  the  moment  the  boy's  vivid  ardour. 

For  it  was  Herr  Habenichts'  way  to  subject  these 
situations  to  a  benevolent  analysis.  He  sat  smiling. 

"You  are  a  poet,  Herr  Habenichts." 

"I  haf  always  said  dat  de  poets  are  de  great 
people.  Even  in  der  tragedies  all  is  vibrant  and 
varm  and  alive.  Dey  haf  no  dead  knowledge!  Oh, 
but  come  back  to  de  business,  Mr.  Marduke.  Re- 
member vat  Frangois  I.  wrote  on  the  window  at 
Chambord  — 

'Souvent  femme  varie 
Bien  fol  est  qui  s'y  fie.' 

You  onderstand  ? " 

"  Say  it  again,"  asked  Monty.     "  More  slowly." 

'"Souvent  femme  varie 
Bien  fol  est  qui  s'y  fie.' " 

"Yes,"  said  Monty.  "But  I  don't  believe  it  in 
this  case." 

"  Ah !  You  are  too  young,"  exclaimed  Herr  Habe- 
nichts, rising  to  go. 

"Now,"  said  Monty,  touching  an  electric  bell, 
"  you  're  not  going  to  walk  back.  I  Ve  rung  for  a 
cab." 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         141 

Herr  Habenichts  protested  that  it  was  unneces- 
sary, but,  before  five  minutes  had  gone,  he  found 
himself  sitting  in  a  hansom  of  which  the  fare  had 
been  paid.  At  first  he  had  given  Wix's  hotel  as  the 
address  to  which  he  wished  to  be  driven,  but  he 
changed  it  to  Larkin's  yard.  He  decided,  however, 
to  alight  a  few  paces  from  the  gate,  and  so  he  en- 
tered the  yard,  walking  and  looking  about  him. 


CHAPTER   NINTH 

OF  course,  Sam  Larkin  and  Mrs.  Muzzey,  who  had 
gone  into  Essex  for  the  day,  had  not  yet  returned. 
During  their  absence  Mrs.  Bleeks  was  proving  her- 
self to  be  a  formidable  gaoler  to  Dorothy,  but  at 
the  moment  when  Herr  Habenichts  entered  the  yard 
she  was  giving  herself  and  her  victim  a  respite,  and 
was  standing  at  the  door  of  Sam's  house,  meaning 
to  keep  her  eye  on  the  stablemen.  She  was  leaning 
upon  the  long  stick  of  a  broom,  with  which  she  had 
been  alternately  sweeping  the  step  and  driving  away 
the  hens.  Herr  Habenichts  lifted  his  silk  hat  in  a 
manner  worthy  of  a  master  of  deportment,  and  then 
advanced  towards  Mrs.  Bleeks  with  a  low  bow.  Hav- 
ing observed  his  method  of  approach,  Mrs.  Bleeks 
felt  certain  that  he  was  a  foreigner,  and  her  suspicions 
were  immediately  aroused. 

"  Wot  d'  you  want  ?  "  she  demanded,  drawing  her- 
self up  with  some  difficulty  to  the  height  of  the 
broom-stick. 

"I  vish  to  speak  vith  —  " 

"  Talk  like  a  Christian !  "  said  Mrs.  Bleeks, 
sharply.  "  Wot  a  wy  to  pronounce  the  langwidge ! 
Yer  a  foreigner  ?  " 

142 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER    143 

"  Ja  wohl !  "  replied  Herr  Habenichts,  in  an  un- 
guarded moment,  while  he  lifted  his  hat  again,  and 
also  resumed  his  elaborate  bowing. 

"  Wot  are  you  performin'  for  like  a  dancin'  bear  ? " 
asked  Mrs.  Bleeks.  "  Sich  manners !  I  '11  kill  my- 
self larfin'." 

"  Vith  your  permission,  my  lady,"  began  Herr 
Habenichts  again,  "  can  I  see  Miss  Doroty  ?  " 

"No,  you  can't,"  retorted  Mrs.  Bleeks,  more  sus- 
picious than  ever. 

"Can't?" 

"  I  says  so.    Are  you  deaf  ?  " 

"  I  must  speak,  meine  Dame." 

"  And  wy,  and  wot,  and  who  are  you  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Bleeks,  impatiently. 

"Herr  Habenichts." 

"  Never  heerd  on  you.  Wy  don't  you  stay  in  your 
own  country?  You're  a  German,  come  to  spy  our 
Navy ! "  said  Mrs.  Bleeks. 

"  I  'm  vTom  Vienna." 

"  I  says  you  're  from  Germany,  and  I  know  it  by 
the  cut  of  your  jib.  Wot 's  the  good  of  tellin'  lies  ? 
It's  exterornary  the  imperance  of  some  folks,  think- 
in'  they  can  chase  Rule  Britannia  off  the  sea.  My 
wig !  Try  it !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bleeks,  brandishing 
her  broom  as  Van  Tromp  might  have  brandished  it. 
"  But  wot  d'  ye  want  ?  " 

"  Pardon,"  said  Herr  Habenichts.    "  I  'm  only  the 


144          THE   OLD  DANCE   MASTER 

Dance  Master  at  Jellini's,  and  I  vould  like  to  speak 
vith  my  pupil." 

Now  the  name  "  Jellini  "  acted  upon  Mrs.  Bleeks 
like  an  electric  current  from  a  battery. 

"Wot!"  she  interjected,  "you  ole  wagabone! 
She  's  never  to  be  hallowed  to  go  to  yer  'op,  step, 
and  jump  again.  You  've  ruined  'er  morals !  " 

"Madame  —  " 

"  It  's  no  use/'  continued  Mrs.  Bleeks,  "  lookin' 
for  pearls  in  whelks.  Wy,  I  'd  sooner  be  a  cat's- 
meat  man  if  I  was  you,  as  go  abaht  ruinin'  young 
gals  like  that,  and  givin'  'er  up  late  at  night  to  a 
gent  wot  brings  'er  'ere  dazed  like,  and  sets  me 
dreamin'  abaht  perambulators." 

Herr  Habenichts  was  thoroughly  confused,  but  he 
caught  the  reference  to  Monty  Marduke,  and  was 
anxious  to  set  himself  right  immediately  with  Mrs. 
Bleeks. 

"  Ah,  goot !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  onderstand.  It 
was  voolish  of  him.  I  haf  told  him  it  was  very  vool- 
ish,  and  he  must  vorget  'er.  And  now  I  come  to  per- 
suade Miss  Doroty  to  vorget  him!  You  see  dis 
parcel.  Veil,  it  is  a  present  vrom  Mr.  Marduke; 
but  I  vill  persvade  Miss  Doroty  to  send  it  back, 
and  so  bring  de  whole  ting  to  an  end." 

"  I  '11  take  it,  and  '  bring  de  whole  ting  to  an 
hend,'  "  said  Mrs.  Bleeks,  mockingly. 

And  she  was  as  good  as  her  word,  for,  before  Herr 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         145 

Habenichts  could  say  "  Donner  Wetter ! "  the  parcel 
was  safe  in  the  clutch  of  Mrs.  Bleeks. 

"  Give  me  back  de  bonbons !  "  cried  Herr  Habe- 
nichts. "  Dey  are  not  my  property,  nor  yours.  You 
spoil  my  game.  Ah,  you  not  onderstand  diplomacy. 
Dis  is  not  de  vay.  Vot  vill  Mr.  Marduke  say  ? " 

If  these  words  were  intended  to  pacify  or  intimi- 
date Mrs.  Bleeks,  they  had  precisely  the  opposite 
effect.  For  her  voice  now  rose  in  denunciation  of 
Herr  Habenichts,  whom  she  overwhelmed  with  her  in- 
vective until  he  stood  stupefied  before  her.  With  the 
parcel  tightly  held  in  one  hand  and  the  uplifted 
broom,  from  which  water  was  dripping,  in  the  other, 
she  began  to  give  him  her  opinion  of  his  conduct. 

"  This  is  wot 's  in  the  pie,  is  it  ?  "  she  said.  "  I 
thinks  whenever  I  sees  you  wot  a  'oary  ole  swine 
and  wagabone  you  was.  Wot 's  a  dog  if  'is  nose  'as 
fallen  off?  And  I'm  not  so  dotty  as  not  to  smell 
at  a  shot  wot  sort  of  a  speciment  you  was.  Sich 
an  indivigual!  Comin'  'ere  in  good  daylight  with 
passels  from  a  gent.  I  '11  show  it  to  Mr.  Larkin, 
that 's  my  brother,  and  the  boss  in  this  'ere  yard  — 
and  'e  '11  give  it  yer  'ot,  s-m-o-k-i-n-g  'ot !  " 

"  I  not  onderstand,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  looking 
round  in  despair,  and  observing  Vardy  and  some 
stablemen  standing  laughing  at  the  open  stable 
doors. 

"  I  '11   set  the   dog   arter  you !  "   continued   Mrs. 


146         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

Bleeks,  "  and  then  the  p'lice.  You  ought  ter  get 
five  stretch  and  be  put  in  chokee  and  made  to  yarn 
yer  grub  gallows  'ard.  It 's  the  daringest  —  thing — " 

"  I  don't  know  wat  you  say ! "  exclaimed  Herr 
Habenichts,  excitedly.  "  Vot  haf  I  done  ? " 

But  even  Mrs.  Bleeks  seemed  to  be  satisfied  that 
she  had  said  enough.  And  so,  having  raised  the 
broom  so  high  that  it  struck  the  incandescent  gas 
lamp  and  broke  one  of  the  glass  sides,  she  threw  the 
blame  on  Herr  Habenichts,  and  then  threw  the  broom 
at  him.  Herr  Habenichts  retired  a  few  paces,  and 
politely  requested  the  return  of  Mr.  Mar  duke's  box 
of  bonbons.  But  Mrs.  Bleeks  beckoned  the  men,  and 
ordered  them  to  put  the  foreigner  out  of  the  yard. 
Vardy  with  a  cab  whip,  the  one-eyed  stableman  with 
a  shaft-strap,  and  another  man  with  a  horse  collar 
were  soon  in  pursuit,  and  caught  up  so  quickly  upon 
Herr  Habenichts  that,  just  as  he  had  got  outside  the 
gate,  he  felt  upon  the  crown  of  his  hat  the  flick  of 
Vardy's  whip.  He  did  not  turn  round  to  hear  the 
words  which  were  shouted  after  him,  but  when  he  had 
walked  a  few  paces  towards  Euston  Road,  he  stood 
musing  in  the  middle  of  the  pavement,  wondering 
whether  he  should  go  to  Monty  Marduke  and  confess 
the  ignominious  failure  of  the  embassy.  While  he 
was  thus  standing  leaning  against  his  walking-stick 
with  one  hand  and  stroking  his  shaven  chin  with  the 
other,  he  heard  some  one  calling  "Herr  Habe- 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER         147 

nichts ! "  The  voice  seemed  familiar,  and  when  he 
looked  up,  he  saw  a  smart  hansom  standing  before 
him  with  Swefling  in  the  driver's  seat,  and  Audacity 
between  the  shafts.  Now,  Swefling  and  the  promise 
made  to  him  had  gone  wholly  out  of  Herr  Habe- 
nichts'  mind. 

"  I  Ve  been  'angin'  abaht  for  two  blessed  hours, 
and  'ave  lost  three  jobs,"  said  Swefling,  "wytin'  on 
you.  Were  you  in  the  yard  all  the  time?  Get  in 
and  tell  me." 

He  then  turned  the  handles,  and  the  cab  door, 
which  they  controlled,  flew  open  to  admit  Herr  Habe- 
nichts,  who,  however,  stood  hesitating  on  the  kerb- 
stone. 

"  Get  in !  "  urged  Swefling,  with  great  eagerness. 
"  Did  you  see  my  Dorrie  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  turning  his  broad 
face  upwards,  "  vat  a  time  of  it  I  've  had !  I  '11  see 
you  at  night.  I  'm  going  to  Mrs.  Vix." 

These  words,  however,  only  increased  Swefling's 
excitement. 

"  I  '11  drive  you  there.    Get  in  at  once." 

Herr  Habenichts  put  his  foot  on  the  step,  and  so 
went  for  his  second  cab  ride  that  day.  Whether  it 
was  due  to  absent-mindedness  or  what  not,  Swefling, 
instead  of  driving  up  the  street  which  led  off  Euston 
Road  into  Fashion  Row,  put  Audacity's  head  east- 
wards, and  made  for  Islington.  He  slackened  off 


148         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

when  Audacity  began  to  mount  the  steep  hill  on  Pen- 
tonville  Road,  and  then  he  opened  the  trap-door,  and 
looked  down. 

"Well?  "he  asked. 

"  Where  am  I  ? "  demanded  Herr  Habenichts,  as 
if  awakening  from  a  swoon. 

"  Where  are  you  ? "  repeated  Swefling.  "  In  my 
cab,  of  course.  What  the  devil  do  you  mean?  Are 
you  drunk  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Herr  Habenichts,  fixing  his  eyes 
on  the  metal  mounting  of  Audacity's  collar,  "vat  is 
wrong  vith  all  de  people  to-day  ?  " 

Swefling  saw  only  the  top  of  a  hat,  and  he  ob- 
served that  it  moved  from  side  to  side.  Herr  Habe- 
nichts, in  fact,  was  shaking  his  head,  and  was  mut- 
tering, "  Dat  box !  " 

Audacity  was  a  fast  walker,  and  the  cab  was  now 
descending  the  hill  which  goes  down  to  Islington. 
Towards  City  Road  the  traffic  became  thicker,  and, 
since  it  was  necessary  to  keep  a  sharp  eye  on  the  elec- 
tric cars,  Swefling  could  carry  on  only  an  intermittent 
conversation.  He  reined  in  Audacity,  however,  and 
looked  down  the  trap  again.  The  occupant  seemed 
to  be  asleep,  and  so,  with  the  butt  end  of  the  whip 
Swefling  gently  tapped  the  crown  of  Herr  Habe- 
nichts' hat 

"  Let  me  out,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  "  I  '11  valk." 

"  Did  you  see  Dorrie  ?  "  demanded  Swefling. 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         149 

"  No,"  replied  Herr  Habenichts ;  "  but  I  saw  a 
vemale  vich  I  never  vish  again  to  see." 

"  Explain  yerself,"   said  Swefling  impatiently. 

"De  virst  ting  was  I  go  to  Mr.  Marduke,"  said 
Herr  Habenichts,  looking  up  at  Swefling,  whose  face 
filled  the  entire  space  of  the  open  trap-door,  "  and 
told  him  dat  de  Dorrie  is  yours.  But  he  gave  me  a 
box  of  bonbons  vor  her." 

"And,  of  course,  you  gave  'im  a  box  on  the  ear," 
remarked  Swefling,  indignant. 

"  Nein,"  replied  Herr  Habenichts. 

"  You  threw  it  at  'im  ? " 

"Nein,"  repeated  Herr  Habenichts.  "I  took  it 
to  Larkin's  yard,  and  dat  vemale  — " 

The  cab  was  suddenly  stopped,  and  Herr  Habe- 
nichts heard  very  violent  language  uttered  imme- 
diately above  his  head. 

"  Take  that !  "  said  Swefling,  using  the  stick  end 
of  his  whip  again,  in  such  a  way  that  Herr  Habe- 
nichts' hat  rolled  first  on  to  the  foot-board,  and  then 
on  to  a  crowded  pavement  of  the  City  Road.  "  Damn 
you  for  a  bilker !  " 

Herr  Habenichts  was  standing  bareheaded  on  the 
foot-board  and  attempting  to  explain  what  his  real 
intentions  had  been  and  the  reasons  of  his  failure, 
while  the  passers-by  supposed  that  he  was  having 
an  altercation  about  the  fare. 

"  Get  out !     Or  there  '11  be  a  tremenjous  row !  " 


150         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

Swefling  was  saying,  "  I  '11  not  be  stuck  on  the  deal 
by  a  swiney  foreigner !  " 

There  was  nothing  for  Herr  Habenichts  to  do  but 
to  descend  and  accept  his  muddy  hat  from  a  man 
who  had  been  kind  enough  to  keep  it  for  him.  Then 
he  stood  wide-eyed  to  watch  Swefling  driving  rapidly 
away  towards  Euston  again. 


CHAPTER   TENTH 

WHILE  Dorothy  was  still  locked  in  her  room,  Mrs. 
Bleeks  sat  down  at  the  parlour  table  and  began  in 
excitement  to  open  the  parcel  which  Herr  Habe- 
nichts  had  been  forced  to  leave  in  her  hands.  Her 
large  black  woollen  shawl  was  tightly  pinned  across 
her  chest  by  an  old-fashioned  gold  brooch,  in  the 
centre  of  which  shone  a  large  yellow  stone.  She  sat 
bolt  upright;  her  black  eyes,  owing  to  her  present 
condition  of  inquisitiveness,  were  even  more  piercing 
than  usual,  and  the  withered  face  had  become  more 
eagle-like  than  owl-like.  After  she  had  untied  the 
pink  ribbons  and  broken  the  two  red  seals  with  "  M  " 
stamped  upon  the  wax,  she  discovered  an  envelope 
lying  on  the  top  of  a  square,  deep,  white  satin  box. 
In  wonder  she  opened  the  box,  and  saw  that  it  was 
filled  by  delicious  French  sweets,  set  in  rows.  With 
a  humph  she  replaced  the  lid,  put  her  spectacles 
across  her  nose,  and  began  to  read  the  letter. 

"PORTLAND  PLACE, 

"  Monday  morning. 
"  DEAB  Miss  DOBOTHY, 

"  In  case  this  falls  into  the  hands  of  that 
awful  old  woman,  I  have  asked  Herr  Habenichts  to 

151 


152         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

give  it  to  you  in  the  dancing  school.  I  hope  you 
will  like  the  sweets,  and  I  am  going  to  ask  you  in 
return  to  send  me  your  photograph.  Please  do  not 
forget  I  am  in  earnest  when  I  say  that  I  think  you 
should  send  your  pictures  to  the  Academy.  There- 
fore I  do  wish  to  see  them.  My  mother  left  me  six 
valuable  pictures,  two  Corots,  a  Rembrandt,  two  Rey- 
nolds, and  a  Hals,  and  I  should  very  much  like  to 
show  them  to  you. 

"  By  the  way,  it  has  occurred  to  me  that  Mr.  Larkin 
could  give  me  advice  about  my  bay  mare.  I  think 
there  is  something  wrong  with  her,  and  I  should  like 
to  put  her  out  to  grass  at  his  farm.  Perhaps  I  may 
come  this  week  to  speak  about  it,  and  if  I  do,  I  hope 
to  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you.  It  seems  ages 
since  Saturday  night ! 

"  Your  sincere  friend, 

"  MONTAGUE  MABDUKE/' 

Mrs.  Bleeks  was,  of  course,  instantly  aware  that  she 
was  "  the  awful  old  woman,"  but,  even  although  the 
letter  had  not  contained  this  reference  to  herself,  its 
entire  conception,  its  suggestions,  and  its  ill-concealed 
purpose  would  have  been  sufficient  to  enrage  her. 
In  a  word,  she  knew  perfectly  well  that  it  was  a 
love-letter,  and  she  re-read  it  in  a  state  of  fury.  She 
waited  impatiently  for  Sam's  arrival,  but  meantime 
she  was  unable  to  remain  downstairs,  and  so  she 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER         153 

went  up  to  Dorothy's  door  to  give  vent  to  the  feelings 
which  had  already  accumulated  in  her.  She  listened 
at  the  door,  and  heard  Dorothy  sobbing.  Sam's 
orders  were  that  the  culprit,  who  had  been  provided 
with  food  for  the  day,  was  not  to  be  allowed  out 
of  prison  until  he  and  Mrs.  Muzzey  had  returned. 
He  was,  in  fact,  afraid  lest  Dorothy  might  run  away. 
The  door  was  locked  from  the  outside,  and  the  key 
was  in  the  keyhole.  Mrs.  Bleeks,  however,  did  not 
venture  to  open  the  door,  because  she  too  was  afraid 
that  her  niece  might  escape. 

"  You  're  workin'  the  tear  pump,  and  no  wonder," 
cried  Mrs.  Bleeks.  "I  wouldn't  like  to  be  in  yer 
skin  when  my  brother  comes  back.  For  it's  oh  sich 
a  jacketin'  you  '11  get!  I  sartify  that  of  all  the  scaly 
gals  you  're  the  wust.  I  would  n't  give  an  aypenny 
for  you.  Oh,  it 's  stunnin'  flash  to  get  a  passel 
from  a  gent,  and  you  're  quite  sillified  with  conceit. 
In  coorse  you  is!  You  hempty  cocoanut!  I'm  the 
'  orful  ole  woman,'  ain't  I  ?  Well,  we  '11  wait  and 
see  wot  Sam  says.  You  scurf!  Oh,  pump  up  the 
bilge  water,  but  Sam  '11  bring  more  out  of  you.  Won't 
>ejist?" 

Dorothy  trembled,  and  her  terror  was  magnified 
when  she  began  to  think  that  this  renewed  attack 
by  her  aunt  had  something  to  do  with  Herr  Habe- 
nichts'  visit.  For  she  had  seen  her  dancing  master 
sent  dancing  out  of  the  yard,  and  had  heard  the 


154         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

guffaws  of  Vardy  and  the  other  men  when  they  went 
in  pursuit.  What  could  it  all  mean?  She  was 
growing  desperate.  Yet  she  neither  dared  to  reply 
to  Mrs.  Bleeks's  harangue,  nor  to  demand  to  be  let 
out,  and  it  was  with  relief  that  she  heard  the  feet 
shuffling  along  the  passage  and  then  descending  the 
stair.  Mrs.  Bleeks  was  again  in  the  parlour,  and 
it  was  half -past  two  by  the  grandfather's  clock.  What 
with  sips  of  gin,  stitching  an  apron,  poking  the  fire, 
talking  to  her  goldfish  and  dropping  crumbs  and 
ants'  eggs  into  their  bowl,  re-reading  Monty  Mar- 
duke's  letter  and  appropriating  some  of  the  contents 
of  the  box  of  sweets,  and  scolding  the  servant  girl  for 
not  bringing  the  tea,  Mrs.  Bleeks  successfully  killed 
the  afternoon  and  delivered  herself  from  its  boredom. 
It  was  just  as  she  was  dropping  three  lumps  of 
sugar  into  her  teacup  that  she  heard  horse's  hoofs 
in  the  yard.  She  looked  through  the  parlour  win- 
dow, and  saw  a  very  smart  young  gentleman  sitting 
as  straight  as  a  dragoon  on  a  fine  black  horse.  He 
wore  a  black  bowler  hat,  an  admirably-cut  rid- 
ing coat,  tanned  leather  breeches,  and  polished 
riding-boots  with  spurs.  From  behind  her  mus- 
lin curtains,  Dorothy,  in  tremor  and  consternation, 
likewise  beheld  this  fascinating  and  disturbing 
apparition. 

"  That 's  that  same  toff !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bleeks, 
who,  in  order  to  make  certain  of  the  matter,  added 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         155 

a  second  pair  of  spectacles  to  the  pair  already  on 
her  nose. 

And  in  truth  the  mounted  visitor  was  none  other 
than  Monty  Marduke,  who,  ignorant  that  Herr  Habe- 
nichts  had  been  before  him,  and  unable  to  control 
his  desire  to  see  Dorothy,  had  come  to  the  yard  on 
the  pretext  of  consulting  Mr.  Larkin  about  the  bay 
mare.  Vardy,  who  was  astonished  to  see  arriving 
in  the  cab-yard  such  a  gentleman  on  such  a  horse, 
came  forward  and  took  hold  of  the  bridle  while 
Monty  dismounted. 

"  Can  I  see  Mr.  Larkin  ? " 

"  'E  's  hout,  my  lord,"  replied  Vardy ;  "  gone  to 
the  country  and  won't  be  back  till  'arf-past  four." 

"  Oh,"  said  Monty,  thinking  that  nothing  could 
be  better ;  "  hold  the  horse  for  a  minute  or  two. 
I  '11  leave  a  message.  That 's  the  door,  is  n't  it  ? " 

"  Yes,  my  lord,"  said  Vardy,  dividing  his  admira- 
tion between  the  horse  and  its  owner. 

Monty  then  went  towards  the  door  where  Mrs. 
Bleeks  was  already  on  guard  looking  more  like  the 
chatelaine  of  a  mediaeval  castle  than  Mr.  Samuel 
Larkin's  sister.  Monty  recognised  her,  and  touched 
his  hat  with  his  riding-whip. 

"  Take  my  word/'  began  Mrs.  Bleeks,  "  it  '11  be  a 
bad  arternoon  if  you  henters  this  'ere  prorperty." 

In  order  to  conceal  his  annoyance,  Monty  smiled, 
and,  indeed,  his  determination  to  see  Dorothy  at  all 


156         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

hazards  had  prepared  him  for  some  disagreeable  ex- 
periences. Even  already  his  amour  propre  was  ruffled, 
and  he  felt  ill  at  ease.  Mrs.  Bleeks's  unfriendly  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  him,  and  he  was  rather  abashed. 
Her  look  plainly  told  him  that  in  her  opinion  he 
was  a  bad  character.  But  his  passion  was  headlong, 
like  a  torrent,  and  it  would  lead  him  (mislead  him  ?) 
anywhere.  When  he  said  in  a  low,  almost  apologetic 
tone  that  he  would  like  to  consult  Mr.  Larkin  about 
the  condition  of  the  bay  mare,  Mrs.  Bleeks's  loud 
derision  made  him  quail.  He  felt  like  a  novice  be- 
fore her  hoary  wisdom,  and  he  knew  that  she  despised 
him  for  his  ignorance  of  the  world. 

"  You  think  that  Mr.  Larkin 's  goin'  to  swallow 
that  like  one  o'clock  ? "  she  asked,  in  a  brisk  manner, 
and  with  the  most  inhuman  laugh  imaginable. 
"  You  're  wery  silly  if  you  does.  Wy,  'e  's  not  a 
weter'nary  any'ow,  and  you  Ve  come  to  the  wrong 
shop.  Lor'  love  you,  you  looks  a  hinnocent  young 
gent,  too,  it 's  sich  a  pity  to  see  the  likes  o'  you 
goin'  to  the  bad.  I  advise  you  not  to  stop  'ere  wery 
much  longer,  but  to  scoot,  for  I  would  n't  like  to 
see  Mr.  Larkin  'orsewhippin'  of  you.  Now  that  I 
claps  my  heyes  on  you  I  can  even  forgive  yer  blastit 
imperance  abaht  *  that  orful  old  woman.'  Yes,  I 
s'pose  I  'm  ole,  but  wy  I  'm  orful  jist  becose  I  'm 
wantin'  to  save  Sam's  darter  from  ruin,  I  dunnow." 

Monty  Marduke  immediately  felt  confused,  indig- 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         157 

nant,  and  ashamed.  Although  he  remembered  his 
uncomplimentary  reference  to  Mrs.  Bleeks  in  the 
letter  which  he  had  sent  with  the  box  of  sweets  he 
was  at  a  loss  to  know  how  the  words  could  have 
already  reached  her  ears.  Wondering  whether  Herr 
Habenichts  had  already  delivered  it,  he  boldly  in- 
formed Mrs.  Bleeks  that  he  wished  to  speak  with 
Miss  Larkin. 

"  Is  she  at  home  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  replied  Mrs.  Bleeks,  peremptorily.  "  She  's 
at  sea.  And  it's  not  wery  purty  of  a  young  gent 
wot  should  know  better  to  turn  the  'ead  of  a  silly 
gal  quite  giddy  by  dancin'  with  'er  at  Jellini's, 
where  'e  'ad  no  right  to  be." 

"  May  I  not  speak  to  you  indoors  ? "  asked  Monty, 
considerably  irritated  because  Vardy,  who  was  hold- 
ing the  horse,  was  unfortunately  hearing  every  word 
of  the  conversation. 

Mrs.  Bleeks  eyed  her  niece's  admirer  very  atten- 
tively for  a  few  moments.  His  manner  was  so  irre- 
sistible that  even  she  thought  that  if  she  invited  him 
into  the  parlour  and  listened  to  him  more  quietly  she 
might  actually  succeed  in  turning  him  from  his  de- 
sign upon  Dorothy,  of  whom  she  was  furiously  jeal- 
ous. She  therefore  consented  to  his  proposal,  led 
him  along  the  narrow  passage  to  the  parlour,  and 
shut  the  door.  Seated  at  the  table  upon  which  Mrs. 
Bleeks's  teacup  still  stood,  Marduke  was  unable  to  see 


158         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

his  box  of  bonbons  and  his  opened  letter  which  lay 
near  the  bowl  of  goldfish  on  the  little  mahogany 
sideboard  immediately  behind  him.  And,  indeed, 
Mrs.  Bleeks  held  his  attention  so  fixedly  that  he 
had  no  eyes  for  anything  in  the  room  besides 
herself. 

"  You  says  yon  've  come  for  Mr.  Larkin's  advice, 
young  man  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  '11  give  it  for  'im,  in 
coorse  I  knows  wot  it  is.  Don't  make  a  fool  of 
yerself." 

"  I  hope  I  never  shall,"  said  Monty. 

"  I  'm  Mr.  Larkin's  sister,  I  'm  the  '  orful  ole  wo- 
man.' I  'm  Mrs.  Bleeks,"  she  continued;  "  and  take 
my  gospel  word,  which  is  it'll  be  shockin'  ockerd 
if  Mr.  Larkin  finds  you  'ere.  If  you  goes  quietly 
awy,  and  takes  yer  passel  with  you,  I  '11  promise 
to  say  nuffin'.  That 's  the  card,  and  if  I  was  you 
I  'd  play  it.  That  ole  rake  of  a  furreigner  as  you 
sent  'ere  with  yer  passel  and  love-letter  should  be 
shot." 

"  Sent  here  ? "  demanded  Monty,  momentarily 
bewildered. 

"  Don't  try  and  look  hinnocent,"  said  Mrs.  Bleeks ; 
"as  if  you  did  n't  send  that  ole  dancin'  loon  at  Jel- 
lini's  'ere  this  wery  day.  'Ow  could  'e  'ave  come  if 
you  'ad  n't  sent  'im  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bleeks  pointed  with  her  thumb  to  the  side- 
board, and  when  Monty  turned  round  and  saw  his 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         159 

box  of  sweets  and  his  letter  lying  spread  out  beside 
it,  be  immediately  rose,  greatly  confused.  Then  he 
seized  both  and  demanded  if  Mrs.  Bleeks  had  tam- 
pered with  them. 

"Yes,"  said  she;  "and  now  jist  you  go  'ome 
and  sit  in  sackcloth  and  hashes  and  forget  it  all.  I 
wants  to  put  you  hup  to  the  time  o  'day.  We  knows 
you.  Yer  father's  the  great  filthyanthropist." 

Monty  burst  out  laughing. 

"  You  're  larfin'.  Larf  as  you  likes,"  said  Mrs. 
Bleeks,  sternly ;  "  but  it 's  a  shameful  game  as  you  've 
been  tryin'  to  play.  In  the  days  of  the  blessed  Wic- 
toria,  wot,  they  says,  was  like  me,  sich  doin's  was 
never  heerd  on,  but  now  gents  thinks  nuffin'  of  runnin' 
arter  hactresses  and  ballet  gals.  As  if  a  ole  woman 
like  me  can't  guess  wot  the  likes  o'  you's  hup  to, 
sendin'  sweets  to  a  gal  like  that." 

Had  the  fascination  of  Dorothy  for  Monty  Marduke 
been  less  great,  it  is  certain  that  he  would  have  long 
ago  brought  his  interview  with  Mrs.  Bleeks  to  an  end, 
and  that  he  would  have  quitted  Larkin's  yard,  never 
to  return.  But  the  thought  of  his  Dulcinea  was  so 
tender  that  it  made  him  forget  the  humiliation  into 
which  he  had  been  suddenly  plunged,  and  he  set  him- 
self to  conquer  the  feeling  of  sickness  which  came 
over  him  during  his  contact  with  Mrs.  Bleeks.  That 
his  Dorothy  belonged  to  such  people  at  all  was  a  mat- 
ter for  bitter  amazement. 


160         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

"  Mrs.  Bleeks,"  he  said,  "  my  intentions  are  per- 
fectly honourable.  I  am  in  love  with  your  niece. 
I  wish  to  marry  her,  and  I  shall  be  only  too  delighted 
to  make  Mr.  Larkin's  further  acquaintance  in  order 
to  receive  his  consent." 

"  I  likes  that !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bleeks,  ironically. 

"I'm  in  dead  earnest,"  said  the  youth,  and  he 
looked  it. 

"  You  're  clean  cracked,"  said  she.  "  Go  awy. 
My  brother  and  sister  '11  be  'ere  in  a  flick." 

But  when  Monty  repeated  that  he  was  in  earnest, 
and  insisted  on  waiting  in  order  to  speak  to  Mr. 
Larkin,  Mrs.  Bleeks  looked  at  him  excitedly,  and  her 
sneers  of  incredulity  ceased. 

Her  manner  became  suddenly  mysterious,  her  eyes 
began  to  blink,  and  she  asked  Monty  if  he  knew  any- 
thing about  rats. 

"  Rats  ? "  he  asked  surprised. 

"  Wy,"  she  replied,  "  if  you  knows  any  think  abaht 
rats  you  never  puts  a  barn  rat  and  a  sewer  rat  in  the 
same  cage,  does  you  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ? "  asked  Monty,  who  knew  nothing 
whatever  about  rats. 

"  Becose  in  coorse  they  '11  fight  till  they  're 
both  lyin'  dead.  Don't  yer  see  they  doesn't 
mate  ?  " 

"  Then  which  am  I  ? "  asked  Monty  in  great 
merriment. 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         161 

she  informed  him,  "  since  you  're  the 
gent,  you  're  the  barn  rat,  and  my  niece 's  the 
sewer." 

Monty's  laugh  did  not  please  Mrs.  Bleeks,  who 
meant  her  fable  to  have  an  educative  influence  upon 
him.  But  she  had  apparently  a  reserve  of  arguments 
and  advice,  and  she  proceeded  with  a  bitter  grin  on 
her  hard  old  lips  to  give  him  the  benefit  of  listening 
to  her. 

"  I  dessay  you  're  a  niceish  young  man,  and  this 
is  jist  a  silly  fust  love,  and  you  '11  be  ashamed  of  yer- 
self  in  a  week.  Well,  I  wants  to  perwent  you  puttin' 
the  saddle  on  the  wrong  'oss,  don't  yer  know.  Arter 
all,  we  're  a  good  ole  family,"  she  said,  sitting  bolt 
upright  in  the  attitude  in  which  she  supposed  she 
resembled  Queen  Victoria.  "  And  Mr.  Larkin's 
father  wot  was  mine  and  Mrs.  Muzzey's  'ad  the  farm 
from  'is  father,  and  so  back  and  back  for  three  or 
four  generations.  It's  more  than  wot  some  silk- 
stockinged  gentry  can  say.  Larkin  's  a  name  in  Essex 
and  in  Middlesex,  too.  Well,  you  would  n't  be  mak- 
in'  sich  a  bad  splash  arter  all  by  marryin'  Sam's 
darter  if  she  was  'is  darter." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  Monty,  astonished. 
"  Not  his  daughter  ?  Who  is  she,  then  ?  " 

"  Keep  quiet,"  said  Mrs.  Bleeks,  letting  her  voice 
drop  almost  to  a  whisper,  "  it 's  a  long  song,  and  if  I 


162         THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

says  anythink  it 's  jist  to  give  you  a  tip  wot  '11  keep 
you  from  makin'  a  hass  of  yerself.  No.  She  's  not 
Sam's  darter.  She  ain't  got  a  drop  of  Larkin  blood 
in  'er.  Ain't  that  wy  Mrs.  Muzzey  and  me's  been 
so  hindignant  'aving  to  call  ourselves  'er  hants  and 
we  're  not  'er  hants." 

"  Then  who  is  she  ?  "  asked  Monty,  again  in  great 
excitement. 

"I  says  keep  quiet,  doesn't  I?  and  listen,"  Mrs. 
Bleeks  admonished  him  while  she  began  to  purr  with 
delight.  "  I  '11  tell  you  wot  she  is.  She  's  a  'asty  pud- 
din'.  Oh,  in  coorse,  you  does  n't  understand  'ow  the 
likes  of  us  talks.  Well,  she  's  a  Illegitimate  crea- 
ture as  it 's  a  disgrace  to  'ave  in  the  'ouse !  "  said  Mrs. 
Bleeks,  with  her  eyes  blazing ;  "  'er  name  ain't  Larkin 
at  all.  It 's  Darsham,  if  she  calls  'erself  arter  'er 
father,  and  it 's  Sherwin  if  she  calls  'erself  arter  'er 
mother.  I  says  she  should  be  called  Darsham  to  fix 
the  ticket  on  the  father." 

Now  Mrs.  Bleeks  shall  not  be  permitted  to  irritate 
the  reader  as  she  irritated  Monty  Marduke  by  the  in- 
tolerable and  roundabout  method  in  which  she  chose 
to  unfold  the  true  history  of  Dorothy  Darsham,  some- 
time known  as  Dorothy  Larkin.  Monty,  indeed,  was 
reduced  to  desperation  by  her  frequent  pauses,  her 
endless  comments  and  warnings,  and  by  her  attacks 
on  the  moral  character  of  her  dead  sister-in-law, 
Dorothy's  mother.  And  so  we  will  leave  him  urging 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         163 

her  to  move  faster  and  crying,  "Go  on!  What? 
Good  Heavens !  "  and  in  as  brief  a  manner  as  pos- 
sible and  with  only  a  few  borrowings  from  Mrs. 
Bleeks  we  shall  in  the  following  chapter  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it. 


CHAPTER   ELEVENTH 

AMONG  the  officers  of  the  South-Eastern  Command 
none  was  so  handsome  or  so  popular  as  Colonel  the 
Earl  of  Swaffham.  But  all  the  Darshams  were  hand- 
some, and  the  Earl's  aunt,  Arabella,  Duchess  of 
Berkshire,  was  still  counted  the  best  preserved  old 
woman  in  London.  When  Lord  Swaffham,  dressed 
in  his  regimentals,  walked  from  his  hotel  in  Colches- 
ter to  the  barracks,  or  rode  at  the  head  of  his  men,  he 
was  generally  an  object  of  attention,  and,  moreover,  it 
was  supposed  that  owing  to  his  qualities  as  a  soldier, 
a  great  military  career  might  lie  before  him.  But 
he  was  not  rich,  in  truth,  he  was  poor,  for,  during 
three  successive  generations,  the  Darsham  estates  in 
Suffolk  had  been  wretchedly  administered,  and  the 
Earl  had  received  the  family  inheritance  overwhelm- 
ingly mortgaged.  Unhappily,  too,  there  was  a  shadow 
over  his  wedded  life,  and  his  wife  by  her  extravagance 
and  her  exploits  at  a  famous  gaming  table  had  already 
caused  him  deep  mortification.  He  was  in  the  prime 
of  life,  forty-six  years  old,  but  he  had  no  heir.  He 
might  as  well  have  been  a  widower,  for  his  wife 
was  dead  to  him,  and  he  to  her.  It  was  probably  in 

164 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         165 

order  to  forget  the  disillusions  which  had  accompa- 
nied his  marriage  that  he  threw  himself  with  such 
ardour  into  his  military  duties.  The  news  that  the 
Countess  of  Swaffham  had  begun  to  indulge  in  the 
morphia  habit  hardly  came  as  a  surprise.  But  her 
husband  endeavoured  to  keep  it  secret  and  to  the 
inquiries  of  friends  and  enemies  regarding  her  where- 
abouts he  replied,  "Travelling."  Shortly  afterwards 
he  provided  medical  treatment  for  her  in  a  nursing 
home,  although  she  had  squandered  most  of  the  little 
fortune  which  remained  to  him.  His  relatives,  and 
especially  the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Berkshire,  Monty 
Marduke's  friend,  advised  him  to  take  divorce  pro- 
ceedings. But  Lord  Swaffham  was  a  Darsham,  and 
the  Darsham  pride  is  well  known.  His  feelings  were 
too  fine,  his  horror  of  exposure  too  great,  and,  besides, 
he  pitied  his  wife.  Therefore,  he  quietly  resumed  his 
bachelor  habits,  and  he  found  that  his  regiment  ab- 
sorbed all  his  energies.  It  was  at  this  moment  that, 
wholly  unknown  to  himself,  he  excited  an  admiration 
and  an  ardent  affection  in  the  mind  and  heart  of  Miss 
Louise  Sherwin,  the  daughter  of  a  gentleman  farmer 
of  Manningtree,  near  Colchester.  Miss  Sherwin  had 
many  opportunities  of  observing  him,  and  she  did  all 
she  could  to  increase  them.  The  tramp,  tramp  of  his 
regiment  as  it  set  out  from  the  barracks  or  returned 
to  them  brought  the  blood  to  her  cheek,  but  many  a1 
time  all  that  she  was  able  to  procure  was  an  exas- 


166         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

perating  glimpse  of  her  colonel  as  he  disappeared  on 
horseback  round  the  bend  of  an  Essex  road.  She  used 
to  drive  to  Colchester  on  Sundays  on  the  pretext  of 
attending  the  services  in  a  particular  church,  but  it 
was  the  church  to  which  the  Colonel  marched  his  men. 

"  Them  red  coats !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bleeks, 
"  when  a  gal  loves  a  sodger  we  says  she  's  got  scarlet 
fever." 

"  Go  on,  go  on !  "  urged  Monty. 

Well,  it  was  by  a  singular  fortune  or  misfortune 
that  the  fascinating  officer  met  his  suffering  and  de- 
spairing admirer  face  to  face.  One  clear  October 
morning  the  hunt  was  streaming  across  the  fields 
of  Essex  towards  Manningtree,  and,  as  usual,  Lord 
Swaffham  was  riding  with  the  greatest  dash  and 
brilliancy.  If  he  looked  well  in  uniform  he  looked 
still  better  in  pink  and  tops.  Mr.  Sherwin  was  a 
friend  of  the  hunt,  and  they  were  always  welcome  on 
his  land.  Whenever  he  heard  horn  or  hound  he  used 
to  run  across  his  lawn  to  watch  the  boldest  riders  tak- 
ing a  particularly  stiff  fence  which  he  had  set  up  be- 
tween two  of  his  fields  for  the  express  purpose,  it  was 
said,  of  admiring  British  pluck.  There  was  a  ditch 
on  the  near  side.  Suddenly  Lord  Swaffham's  horse 
refused,  but  its  rider  had  too  secure  a  seat,  and  he 
was  not  thrown.  Once  more  he  put  his  mount  to  the 
fence,  but  the  animal  failed  to  clear  it,  and  with  its 
rider  it  fell  very  heavily. 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         167 

"  In  coorse,"  said  Mrs.  Bleeks,  "  'e  was  carried  to 
the  farm.  She  was  his  nuss,  and  'e  stopped  too  long." 

"  Was  she  pretty  ? "  asked  Monty,  bending 
forward. 

"  If  'er  as  Sam  calls  'is  darter  's  purty,  and  I  says 
she  ain't,"  replied  Mrs.  Bleeks,  looking  at  him  archly, 
"  then  I  s'pose  the  mother  was,  for  they  're  as  like  as 
two  peas." 

The  truth  was,  of  course,  that  Louise  Sherwin  was 
very  beautiful.  But  there  were  now  rumours  and 
whispers  in  Colchester  and  Manningtree,  and  sud- 
denly, after  an  interview  with  the  General  command- 
ing the  district,  and  under  compulsion  from  the  War 
Office,  the  Earl  of  Swaffham  resigned  his  commission. 
Sherwin  had  decided  upon  his  ruin,  and  so  the  un- 
fortunate affair  became  public.  Louise  was  turned 
out  of  her  father's  house,  and  Swaffham  purchased 
the  lease  of  a  cottage  for  her  about  five  miles  from 
Colchester.  It  was  there  that  Dorothy  was  born.  A 
certain  sympathy  was  felt  for  Swaffham,  who  de- 
clared truly  that  he  had  intended  to  make  Louise  his 
wife  after  he  had  divorced  the  Countess  of  Swaffham, 
for  reasons  already  well  known,  and  for  others  of  a 
painful  kind  which  it  is  not  necessary  to  narrate. 
But  he  had  made  the  gravest  error  in  tactics,  and  one 
moment  of  imprudence  and  tenderness  had  shattered 
his  career.  Even  his  aunt,  the  Dowager  Duchess  of 
Berkshire,  failed  to  support  him  in  face  of  the  dis- 


168         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

approval  which,  he  now  encountered.  But  he  was 
too  proud  to  seek  help  from  any  quarter,  and  al- 
though he  was  placed  on  half  pay,  he  refused  to  ac- 
cept it.  Unfortunately  the  bitter  experience  of 
obloquy  began  to  alienate  the  affection  of  Louise. 
Some  believed  that  her  mind  became  temporarily 
troubled,  and  at  any  rate  she  refused  to  see  the  man 
whose  ambitions  and  reputation  she  had  broken  in 
pieces.  A  settlement  was  made  for  her,  and  Swaff- 
ham,  having  discarded  his  title,  went,  it  is  supposed, 
to  Paris.  Louise  continued  to  live  in  the  cottage, 
and  she  had  the  Larkins  as  neighbours.  For  the  cot- 
tage with  its  small  garden  formed  part  of  Larkin's 
farm,  and  it  was  from  Sam  Larkin  that  Lord  Swaff- 
ham  had  obtained  the  lease. 

"  It  'appened  eighteen  years  ago,"  said  Mrs.  Bleeks, 
taking  breath;  "  and  now  I  comes  to  Sam's  mistake. 
In  coorse  we  saw  a  good  deal  of  'er,  and  wot  does  Sam 
do  but  like  a  hidiot,  falls  in  love  with  'er  a  year  arter 
she  had  quarrelled  with  Swaffham,  and  says  'e  '11 
take  'er,  darter  and  all!  Wasn't  we  hindignant? 
Sich  a  marriage  for  Sam!  Ain't  that  wy  'e  'ad  to 
leave  Essex  and  start  this  'ere  business  ?  Eor  'e  took 
it  into  'is  'ead  that  the  people  was  larfin'  at  'im,  and  so 
they  was.  Well,  she  did  n't  live  long  arter  they  was 
married,  and  then  Mrs.  Muzzey  and  me  'ad  all  the 
trouble  of  bringin'  up  the  darter  wot  Sam  makes  us 
call  our  niece.  Sam 's  poured  out  affection  on  'er 
like  water,  and  in  coorse  we  was  wild.  The  Swaff- 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         169 

ham  blood 's  beginnin'  to  show  in  'er.  That 's  wy 
she  gives  'erself  sich  airs,  jist  like  the  mother  who 
said  that  when  she  married  Sam  she  married 
beneath  'er." 

Mrs.  Bleeks  declared  that  she  was  now  at  the  end 
of  the  story,  and  she  looked  at  Monty  expecting  to 
hear  him  express  profuse  thanks  for  having  been  de- 
livered from  a  trap.  But  she  was  mistaken.  His 
face  was  all  lit  up  by  a  smile  because  he  was  con- 
gratulating himself  on  his  own  powers  of  perception. 
He  had  seen  at  a  glance  that  there  was  something 
uncommon  about  Dorothy.  And  at  Jellini's  had  not 
even  Sir  John  Marduke  expressed  surprise  at  her 
beauty  and  her  manners  ? 

"  This  is  extraordinary,  Mrs.  Bleeks,"  said  Monty. 
"  I  once  heard  Lord  Swaffham  being  discussed  in  my 
own  regiment.  My  old  colonel  was  his  friend,  and 
he  used  to  deplore  the  immense  loss  which  the  army 
sustained  when  Lord  Swaffham  was  forced  to  retire. 
Little  did  I  think  that  I  would  ever  meet  Miss  — 
Darsham.  Where  is  she  ? " 

"  She 's  locked  up,"  replied  Mrs.  Bleeks.  "  When 
Sam  sees  you  bringin'  'er  from  Jellini's  Sat'day  night 
it  brought  the  story  back  to  'im,  and  'e  began  thinkin' 
the  gal 's  goin'  to  be  like  'er  mother.  And  so  she  's 
bein'  punished,  and  she's  been  locked  upstairs  in  'er 
room  ever  since.  Now,  if  I  was  you,  Mr.  Marduke, 
I  'd  go  awy.  Sam  '11  be  'ere  direckly." 

Mr.  Marduke,  however,  had  other  intentions,  and 


170         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

he  asked  Mrs.  Bleeks  to  be  good  enough  to  permit 
him  to  have  an  interview  with  Dorothy  that  instant. 
And  he  added  that  he  would  wait  till  Mr.  Larkin 
returned. 

"  Wot  for  ?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Bleeks. 

"  To  tell  him,"  replied  Monty,  calmly,  "  that  he 
has  no  legal  control  over  his  step-daughter.  She 
does  n't  know  anything  about  her  real  origin,  I 
suppose  ? " 

"  In  coorse  not !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bleeks,  alarmed. 
"  If  you  says  a  word  of  it  to  my  brother  'e  '11  murder 
you!" 

"  What  right  has  Tie  to  lock  her  up  ? "  demanded 
Monty,  as  he  rose  and  looked  at  Mrs.  Bleeks  in  a  very 
threatening  manner. 

"  Jist  you  get  on  the  trot  at  once  and  out  of  this," 
said  Mrs.  Bleeks,  who  had  turned  pale  because  she 
was  agitated. 

Monty,  however,  with  his  bonbons  and  his  letter, 
left  the  room,  heedless  of  Mrs.  Bleeks's  warnings 
and  cries  of  "  Murder !  "  and  "  Thief !  "  He  found 
his  way  along  the  dark  passage  to  the  foot  of  the 
stair.  Presently  he  reached  the  top  and  was  walking 
along  another  lobby  on  each  side  of  which  there  were 
doors.  He  looked  carefully  at  every  door  until  he 
came  to  one  in  which  he  saw  a  key,  and  he  guessed 
that  Dorothy  was  within.  He  listened  for  a  moment, 
but  heard  only  Mrs.  Bleeks's  voice  in  the  yard.  He 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         171 

listened  again,  and  he  heard  a  drawer  being  closed. 
Then  as  he  turned  the  key  he  called  "  Miss  Doro- 
thy ! "  But  it  was  a  different  Dorothy  whom  he  saw. 
She  had  been  weeping  and  the  traces  of  her  tears  were 
on  her  face.  Moreover,  she  looked  afraid  and  even 
displeased;  and  she  shrank  back  from  him.  With  a 
rapid  gesture  she  refused  to  allow  him  to  approach 
nearer. 

"  Mr.  Marduke,  you  ought  not  to  have  come  here ! 
I  cannot  see  you.  Please  go  away,  and  shut  that  door. 
I  never  wish  to  see  you  again,"  she  said. 

Monty  was  thunderstruck. 

"  I  meant  Herr  Habenichts  to  give  you  these," 
he  said,  crestfallen,  yet  thrusting  the  white  satin  box 
and  the  letter  into  her  hands ;  "  but  I  have  more 
important  —  " 

His  sentence  was  cut  short.  A  cab  was  arriving  in 
the  yard ;  then  came  a  babel  of  voices,  and  the  sound 
of  a  heavy  foot  on  the  stair,  and  the  words,  "What 
the  devil!  Who?" 

Monty  quickly  closed  the  door,  but  he  did  not 
relock  it.  Then  he  walked  back  towards  the  head  of 
the  stairs  where  he  met  Sam  Larkin,  who  first  glared 
at  him  in  silence.  Then  a  very  disagreeable  alter- 
cation took  place  between  them.  Sam,  unable  and 
also  unwilling  to  believe  that  a  youth  in  Monty  Mar- 
duke's  position  actually  comtemplated  marriage  with 
Dorothy,  ignorant,  also,  that  Mrs.  Bleeks  had  betrayed 


172         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

the  secret  in  which  his  pride  and  jealousy  had  been  so 
long  entrenched,  lost  not  a  moment  in  acting  the  part 
of  an  injured  parent.  He  was  a  very  powerful  man, 
and  might  have  easily  flung  the  slim  youth  down  the 
stairs.  That,  indeed,  was  what  he  threatened  to  do. 

"I  quite  understand,  Mr.  Larkin,"  said  Monty, 
whose  voice  was  vibrating,  "  that  you  are  surprised 
to  see  me  here.  I  will  be  very  glad  to  speak  with 
you." 

"  Get  out ! "  retorted  Sam  in  the  most  menacing 
tone. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  replied  Monty.  "  I  know  that 
I  require  to  give  an  explanation." 

"What  right  have  you  to  follow  my  daughter 
about  ? "  demanded  Larkin,  while  Monty  stood 
clutching  his  riding-whip. 

"  Your  daughter?  "  asked  Monty. 

"Yes,  my  daughter." 

"  She  's  not  your  daughter,"  said  Monty,  observing 
that  Larkin  staggered  slightly,  and  was  unable  to 
make  an  immediate  reply. 

"  Mrs.  Bleeks  has  just  told  me  that  during  all  those 
years  you  have  acted  like  an  affectionate  father  —  " 

But  it  was  impossible  to  complete  the  sentence, 
for  Larkin  was  giving  expression  to  his  complete  loss 
of  self-control  in  a  whirl  of  loud  and  angry  words. 

"  By  what  right,"    demanded    Monty,    "  do    you 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         173 

deprive  of  her  liberty  a  girl  who  is  not  your  daughter 
at  all  ?  I  know  Lord  Swaffham's  aunt." 

"  Get  out !  And  mind  your  own  business,"  said 
Larkin,  stung  by  the  mention  of  Swaffham's  name. 

"  You  shall  hear  about  this !  "  replied  Monty, 
excitedly,  as  he  descended  the  stair. 

Mrs.  Bleeks  with  Mrs.  Muzzey  had  taken  refuge  in 
the  parlour,  and  the  former  was  preparing  to  meet 
her  brother.  In  the  yard  Vardy  was  still  holding 
the  horse,  which  had  become  restive.  As  Marduke 
mounted  he  gave  the  lad  two  half-crowns,  and  asked 
his  name.  Then  he  rode  away. 


CHAPTER   TWELFTH 

MONTY  MABDTTKE  was  now  in  a  condition  of  electrical 
heat  Or,  if  we  might  borrow  another  illustration 
from  contemporary  science,  he  was  in  an  advanced 
stage  of  radio-activity.  In  fact,  he  had  begun  to  be- 
have exactly  like  the  particle  of  radium  which,  no 
matter  what  obstacle  it  encounters,  pursues  through 
the  densest  objects  a  rectilinear  path,  and  does  not 
permit  itself  even  for  a  moment  to  be  deflected.  For 
love,  too,  is  radiant  matter,  and  has  the  power  of 
lending  luminescence  to  the  beings  surrounding  it. 
Monty  felt  himself  all  aglow.  By  a  romantic  acci- 
dent he  found  himself  in  the  saddle,  looking,  for  all 
his  modern  costume,  like  a  very  perfect  knight  ready 
to  tilt  for  his  lady,  who  lay  in  that  unromantic  prison 
of  a  London  cab-yard.  In  sober  truth,  the  youth  was 
very  excited.  This  singular  emotion  which  was  now 
stirring  him  did  not  appear  to  have  come  to  him  as  a 
mere  matter  of  course.  When  they  arrive  at  a  certain 
age  many  men  take  their  love  affairs  as  part  of  the 
inevitable  routine  of  existence.  They  are  to  fall  in 
love  and  they  are  to  get  married.  That  is  what  the 

world  expects  of  them.     But  owing  to  the  steady  re- 

174 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTEK         175 

duction  of  the  romantic  elements  of  modern  life, 
owing  to  the  stripping  of  its  romantic  garniture,  those 
important  events  too  often  take  place  in  a  very  me- 
chanical and  even  prosaic  way.  The  old  method  of 
capture  of  a  wife  involving  the  risk  of  the  capturer's 
life  and  limb  has  really  something  to  say  for  itself; 
and  at  least  Monty  Marduke  would  not  have  been 
afraid  to  fight.  His  own  character  was  highly  ardent, 
and  then  the  manner  in  which  he  had  fallen  in  love 
was  very  surprising.  Dorothy's  undoubted  loveli- 
ness, the  discovery  which  he  had  just  made  regarding 
her  birth,  the  dangers  of  her  surroundings,  and  the 
anxieties  which  lay  immediately  ahead,  helped  him 
to  see  and  feel  that  he  had  suddenly  become  engaged 
in  an  adventure.  That  unlooked-for  and  very  painful 
repulse  which  he  had  a  few  moments  ago  suffered  at 
her  hands  made  him  touch  his  horse  with  the  spur, 
because  time  pressed,  and  he  was  eager  to  be  home  in. 
order  to  begin  to  act  at  once.  He  rode  quickly  back 
to  his  father's  stables,  and  he  was  no  sooner  arrived 
at  Portland  Place  than  he  divested  himself  of  his 
riding  suit  and  dressed  himself  in  correct  method  for 
an  afternoon  visit.  Then  he  ordered  Riggs  to  call 
a  cab.  He  heard  that  Sir  John  and  Minnie  Marduke 
were  in  the  house,  and  for  a  moment  he  hesitated  as 
to  whether  he  should  let  them  know  that  the  girl 
whom  they  had  seen  dancing  at  Jellini's  was  the 
natural  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Swaffham.  But  he 


176         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

guessed  that  the  news  was  not  in  the  least  likely  to 
recommend  her;  that,  on  the  contrary,  his  father's 
pride  and  his  sister's  bigotry  would  be  still  more 
deeply  outraged.  Besides,  the  most  urgent  need  of 
the  present  was  not  to  attempt  to  conciliate  them, 
but  to  do  something  to  save  Dorothy  from  mishap. 
Every  moment  that  she  remained  unprotected  in  such 
surroundings  increased  Monty's  fear  and  indignation. 
When  he  allowed  his  mind  to  rove  on  possibilities, 
on  the  danger,  for  instance,  of  her  removal  and  con- 
cealment by  Sam  Larkin,  who  doubtless  was  her  legal 
guardian,  he  became  very  miserable.  He  asked  in 
a  rather  irritated  manner  if  the  hansom  was  not  yet 
at  the  door.  But  the  second  footman  was  still  whis- 
tling for  one.  Then  two  thoughts  suggested  them- 
selves. What  if  by  chance  it  is  Swefling's  cab  that 
drives  up?  What  if  it  is  Larkin's  design  to  make 
Dorothy  marry  Swefling!  Monty  walked  to  the  tele- 
phone and  rang  up  the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Berk- 
shire. He  got  the  connection  at  once,  and  asked 
her  butler  if  the  Dowager  was  at  home.  The  butler 
begged  him  to  hold  the  line  for  a  moment,  and  then 
returned  with  the  answer  that  her  Grace  would  be 
very  pleased  to  receive  Mr.  Monty  Marduke.  And 
now  a  hansom  was  at  the  door,  and  since  it  was  not 
Swefling's,  Monty  entered  it,  and  was  driven  to 
Grosvenor  Square. 

She  was  known  as  the  eccentric  Dowager,   and 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         177 

Monty  counted  upon  her  originality  and  breadth  of 
view.  She  used  to  say  that  an  hereditary  curse 
rested  upon  the  Darshams,  and  she  almost  suspected 
that  she  had  brought  their  ill  luck  to  the  Duke  who 
was  accidentally  shot  on  the  third  day  after  she 
had  married  him.  It  had  taken  her  half  a  lifetime 
to  recover  from  that  shock,  and  it  was  only  late  that 
her  natural  alertness  of  spirit  returned.  It  was  a 
severe  ordeal  to  be  made  a  dowager  while  still  in  the 
flower  of  youth,  and  to  be  compelled  to  see  the  duke- 
dom passing  to  her  husband's  cousin,  whom  she  dis- 
liked. When  she  looked  back  on  her  life  it  seemed 
extraordinarily  long.  But  she  had  grown  old  grace- 
fully. Her  eyes  were  still  bright  without  the  aid  of 
lotions,  and  she  was  rather  proud  of  her  abundant 
grey  curls  which,  whenever  she  became  very  animated, 
she  shook  vigorously  as  if  to  prove  that  since  it  was 
Nature  that  had  fastened  them  on  her  head  they  were 
in  no  immediate  danger  of  dropping  off.  The  pro- 
vision for  her  maintenance  was  not  considered  hand- 
some, and  although  it  was  sufficient  for  her  needs  it 
was  not  sufficient  for  her  ambitions.  Nevertheless 
her  middle  life  and  old  age  were  happy.  She  was 
interested  in  everything.  Many  friendships,  a  little 
travelling,  a  good  deal  of  bridge,  music,  and  the  play 
—  these  things  filled  her  life.  She  gave,  too,  her 
Duchess's  mite  to  charity.  What  pleased  her  best 
was  to  be  surrounded  by  young  people  of  both  sexes, 


178         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

for  whom  she  designed  frequent  parties.  Monty 
Marduke  had  long  been  her  favourite,  and  she  loved 
to  think  of  making  a  match  for  him.  She  hoped 
that  it  was  in  her  house  that  he  would  meet  his 
future  wife.  There  were  to  choose  from,  for  instance, 
Lady  Westcott's  daughters,  all  beautiful,  there  was 
Miss  Forbes  Alperton,  or  Diana  Melmore,  or  one 
of  the  Tilburys,  or  the  pretty  daughter  of  Sir  Philip 
Marston.  All  these  and  many  others  were  to  be  seen 
during  the  season  in  her  Yellow  Drawing-Room, 
and  any  of  them  was  a  most  desirable  parti  for  a 
young  man  like  Marduke.  But  even  by  him  the  old 
woman  was  rather  feared  than  esteemed,  and  he 
was  greatly  embarrassed  by  her  admiration.  Her 
friends  noticed  that  her  vivacity  always  increased 
whenever  he  entered  her  crowded  rooms,  for  by  his 
mere  presence  he  seemed  to  bring  to  her  the  elixir  of 
life.  She  never  understood  why  some  insolent  person 
had  dubbed  her  eccentric.  Was  it  because  she  still 
loved  the  society  of  young  people?  Was  it  because 
when  she  too  was  young  she  had  proposed  to  ride 
astride  ?  The  suggestion  had  shocked  her  contem- 
poraries, and  it  was  in  vain  that  she  informed  ignorant 
people  that  Velazquez  painted  (or  rather  repainted,  as 
she  should  have  said)  two  Queens  of  Spain  riding 
astride.  She  was  the  declared  enemy  of  solemn  airs, 
pretension,  and  humbug,  and  frequently  her  haughty 
temper  frightened  some  of  her  guests.  But  they 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         179 

still  buzzed  delightedly  around  her.  Although  she 
was  very  angry  with  her  nephew,  the  unfortunate  Earl 
of  Swaffham,  she  was  even  more  furious  against  his 
detractors.  When  he  was  attacked  she  attempted 
to  defend  him  by  laying  emphasis  on  the  provocation 
which  he  had  suffered.  For  she  had  always  disliked 
the  Countess  of  Swaffham.  As  yet,  however,  she  had 
done  nothing  for  her  nephew,  and  it  was  only  for 
the  sake  of  the  family  name  that  she  made  efforts 
to  muzzle  up  the  scandal.  She  had  never  been  able 
to  forgive  his  foolish  blunder  in  strategy.  If  he 
was  fated  to  fall  in  love  with  a  Louise  Sherwin,  he 
should  have  either  divorced  his  wife  or  waited  pa- 
tiently or  impatiently  for  her  death,  which  the  doctors 
predicted.  And  their  prediction  came  true.  Louise 
Sherwin  as  Countess  of  Swaffham,  and  therefore 
niece  to  Arabella,  Duchess  of  Berkshire,  was  perhaps 
a  perplexing  vision.  But,  after  all,  she  was  the 
daughter  of  a  gentleman.  The  proper  wages  of  that 
kind  of  sin  is,  said  the  Dowager,  marriage ;  but  that 
particular  marriage  could  never  have  been  half  so 
distressing  in  its  effects  as  the  painful  collapse  of 
the  Earl's  brilliant  career.  When  a  question  about 
the  affair  was  actually  put  to  the  Minister  for  War, 
and  was  answered  by  him  in  the  House  of  Commons, 
the  Duchess  blushed  so  deeply  that  she  declared  that 
for  many  days  she  could  not  regain  her  proper  colour. 
But  that  was  eighteen  years  ago,  and  the  matter  was 


180          THE   OLD  DANCE   MASTER 

forgotten.  It  was  not  even  known  to  the  new  genera- 
tion. If  anyone  revived  the  memory  of  it  the  Duch- 
ess would  be  mortally  offended.  She  was  hardly 
conscious  that  she  still  possessed  her  nephew's  por- 
trait which  used  to  hang  in  the  Yellow  Drawing- 
Room,  but  had  been  removed  many  years  ago  into 
the  greater  privacy  of  the  boudoir.  The  Swaffham 
line  might  now  be  considered  at  an  end.  "  We  are 
an  extinct  volcano,"  remarked  the  Duchess,  a  state- 
ment which  was  denied  by  all  those  who  had  ex- 
perienced the  heat  and  hot  ashes  of  her  temper. 
With  the  exception,  however,  of  a  hundred  Suffolk 
acres  which  she  had  bought  back,  the  Darsham  estate 
was  now  the  property  of  the  mortgagees.  Only  one 
thing  in  her  nephew's  behaviour  greatly  pleased  her. 
She  admired  the  pride  which  had  made  him  efface 
himself  and  disappear  utterly  from  the  society  which 
had  known  him.  Was  he  in  Paris,  in  America,  or 
perhaps  Japan  ?  There  had  been  whispers,  but  noth- 
ing was  confirmed.  It  was  even  rumoured  that  he 
was  dead,  and  she  hoped  it  was  true.  As  for  his 
child,  the  Duchess  knew  that  there  was,  or  had  been, 
such  a  person,  but  she  had  made  no  investigations. 
Why  should  she  have  made  them  ? 

Monty  entered  the  room  in  a  manner  which  be- 
trayed that  he  was  full  of  news.  But  Arabella,  who 
was  drinking  tea,  cut  his  "  Oh,  Duchess !  "  short,  for 
she  had  no  intention  of  allowing  him  to  speak  until 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         181 

she  had  expressed  her  extreme  dissatisfaction.  He 
refused  tea ;  he  seemed  nervous,  and  the  Duchess  felt 
sure  that  he  had  come  to  apologise.  He  shook  hands 
almost  timidly,  and  asked  if  she  expected  anyone, 
because  he  wished  to  be  with  her  "  absolutely  alone." 

"  Well,  sit  beside  me,"  she  said,  and  made  room 
for  him  on  the  yellow  damask  sofa. 

He  sat  down  intending  to  begin  forthwith,  but 
her  finger  raised  in  the  usual  mocking  manner  told 
him  that  she  had  something  to  say,  and  that  he  must 
listen. 

"  Ah,  Monty,  Monty !  "  she  exclaimed,  looking  and 
laughing  at  him  and  shaking  her  head  so  that  the 
curls  went  round  in  a  whirl.  "  Monty,  Monty, 
Monty!" 

A  rich  dim  winter  twilight  filled  the  beautiful 
room.  Arabella  hated  a  glare,  and  the  lights  were 
always  harmonised.  A  shaded  electric  lamp  stood 
on  the  tea-table  and  made  the  silver  and  the  porce- 
lain twinkle.  Here  and  there  throughout  the  room 
a  few  candles  on  old-fashioned  silver  candlesticks 
burned  tranquilly,  and  together  with  the  glow  of  a 
steady,  not  a  roaring  fire,  illuminated  the  room  in  a 
soft  and  pleasing  way. 

"  Duchess  —  "  he  began. 

"  Monty,"  she  said,  "  I  could  hardly  have  supposed 
that  you  could  be  such  a  coward.  That  paragraph! 
Now,  there,  you  look  perfectly  guilty.  You  stayed 


182         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

away  because  of  that  paragraph  in  a  halfpenny 
newspaper.  You  are  not  chivalrous  even,  to  an  old 
woman." 

"Duchess  —  I  really  —  " 

"  Yes,  you  really  did.  You  were  afraid  to  be  seen 
in  my  box  because  the  silly  paragraph  said  that  we 
were  going  to  be  married !  "  said  the  Duchess,  shak- 
ing her  curls  as  she  laughed  again. 

"  Not  at  all,"  urged  Monty,  joining  in  the  laugh 
since  it  was  impossible  not  to  be  amused  at  the 
thought  of  such  a  hoary  bride.  "  But  I  have  some- 
thing far  more  extraordinary  —  " 

"  Oh  yes,  you  did.  You  know.  Now  tell  me 
what  Sir  John  said.  I  am  really  very  eager  to  hear 
what  he  and  Minnie  said,  especially  Minnie." 

"They  laughed,  too,"  said  Monty;  "but  I've 
come  —  " 

"  It 's  more  than  you  did,  then,"  continued  the 
Dowager.  "  I  think  I  can  see  you  in  a  great  state 
of  nerves  rushing  to  get  the  telegram  sent  off  deny- 
ing the  whole  thing.  D'  you  know  I  've  had  a  great 
many  telegrams  and  telephone  messages  congratu- 
lating me  ?  It 's  so  amusing.  D'  you  see  that  little 
tortoise-shell  clock  ?  That 's  a  marriage  present  to 
me  from  Lady  Wimperton.  She  says  that  she  always 
likes  to  be  first,  and  that  whenever  she  hears  the  an- 
nouncement of  a  wedding  off  goes  the  present.  Oh, 
Monty !  I  like  to  think  of  all  the  horrid  things  they 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER         183 

are  saying  about  me.  I  suppose  the  clock  was  meant 
to  remind  me  that  my  time  is  up !  Why,  I  am  getting 
on  to  sixty."  (She  was  sixty-three.)  "Well,  Sir 
John  and  Minnie  were  amused,  were  they  not  ?  Ah, 
I  do  like  people  with  merry  hearts.  Only  solemn 
young  men  like  you  can't  take  a  joke.  Still,  it's 
brave  of  you  to  come  here  in  daylight.  I  am  sur- 
prised that  you  had  the  courage.  For  how  do  you 
know  that  people  are  not  watching  from  all  sides 
of  the  Square?  Why,  there  will  very  likely  be  an- 
other paragraph  in  that  halfpenny  paper  to-morrow 
morning.  It  will  say  — t  In  spite  of  Mr.  Monty 
Marduke's  denial  of  his  engagement,  which,  at  his 
request,  we  gladly  printed,  we  are  able  to  inform  our 
readers  that  our  representative  stationed  in  Grosve- 
nor  Square,  observed  Mr.  Marduke  last  night  about 
five  o'clock,  entering  the  residence  of  Arabella,  Duch- 
ess of  Berkshire.'  Oh  you  will  be  in  such  a  flurry 
and  fever  about  it.  What  will  you  do,  Monty  ?  " 
"  Duchess,  I  Ve  something  very  important  —  " 
"Don't  rattle,"  she  said;  "think  of  this.  If 
I  leave  you  all  my  property,  how  many  heads  will 
be  set  wagging  ?  They  '11  say,  '  Now,  was  there 
not  something  in  it  ? '  You  are  looking  quite  cross. 
That 's  just  the  expression  you  have  when  you  play 
badly  at  bridge.  You  know  I  call  it  the  asses' 
bridge!" 

"  Duchess,  do  let  me  — " 


184          THE   OLD  DANCE   MASTER 

"  I  'm  delighted  to  have  you  as  a  bogey.  You 
know,  you're  the  bogey  man  to  the  people  who 
think  that  they  should  be  my  heirs.  I  've  been  hear- 
ing such  strange  things  about  your  poor  father.  7s 
it  true  that  his  mind  .  .  .  you  know  .  .  .  that  this 
giving  away  of  money  so  recklessly  is  a  sign  of 
softening  of  the  brain.  .  .  .  That 's  what  they  say. 
At  least,  it 's  softening  of  the  heart.  But,  you  know, 
it  should  be  stopped!  I  am  very  sorry  for  you  and 
Minnie.  Don't  you  think  he  should  be  examined? 
How  much  money  has  he  given  away  within  the  last 
month  ? " 

"  Twenty-five  thousand,"  said  Monty. 

"  Good  gracious !  It 's  a  mania.  ...  I  am  very 
concerned  about  it.  If  that  goes  on  you  will  need 
every  penny  /  can  leave  you,  Monty.  What  does 
poor  Minnie  say  ?  It 's  not  fair  to  her  or  to  you. 
Every  one  is  talking  about  it.  I  had  the  Duke  of 
Berkshire  here  yesterday  and  his  daughter  Angela. 
By  the  way,  that  would  be  a  match  for  you.  Tall, 
good  complexion,  pretty  mouth,  a  nice  girl,  soft  eye- 
lashes. If  you  were  to  marry  her  I  might  give  her 
my  pearls.  Do  you  know  how  many  mothers  come 
sighing  to  me,  and  inquiring  about  you  ?  Lady  West- 
cott  has  just  been  here,  and  was  asking  what  you  are 
doing,  and  was  very  inquisitive  about  how  much 
money  your  father  may  still  be  supposed  to  have. 
'  Well,'  I  said  to  her,  '  he  can't  give  away  the  baron- 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         185 

etcy  in  charity.  That 's  one  good  thing.'  What  do 
you  think  of  Lady  Angela  Darsham?  Or  do  you 
think  Miss  Marston  prettier  ?  " 

"I  never  think  of  her  at  all,"  replied  Monty. 
"  I  've  come  here  with  the  most  extraordinary 
news  —  " 

"  I  'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Arabella.  "  What  is 
it?  I  was  just  saying  to  Lady  Westcott  that  if  the 
days  go  as  slowly  as  they  have  been  doing  these  last 
weeks  I  '11  go  to  Cap  Martin." 

"  Duchess,"  began  Monty  at  last,  and  in  a  manner 
which  indicated  that  he  meant  to  be  listened  to, 
"  it  was  you  who  did  n't  keep  your  promise  to  come  to 
Jellini's.  I  wish  you  had  come !  " 

"  Of  course,  I  was  only  joking.  Tell  me  about 
this  new  mad  fad  of  Sir  John.  Is  he  going  to  teach 
the  canaillocratie  to  dance  ?  Oh,  really,  he  ought  to 
be  examined  by  some  doctor.  I  'm  very  vexed  about 
him.  Who  or  what  can  '  Jellini '  be  ?  " 

"  It 's  the  best  thing  he  has  done,"  Monty  replied 
with  increasing  animation.  "  Oh,  if  you  had  only 
been  there,  Duchess !  You  would  have  seen  someone 
to  interest  you." 

"  Is  it  possible  ? "  asked  Arabella,  waiting  for  an 
explanation. 

She  sat  at  one  corner  of  the  sofa  and  Monty 
at  the  other,  and  while  the  latter  spoke,  the  Dowager 
raised  her  lorgnette  and  looked  at  him  attentively. 


186         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

"  The  loveliest  creature  you  ever  saw,  Duchess. 
You  would  n't  have  objected  to  me  dancing  with  her. 
You  would  have  taken  her  home  with  you,  if  you 
had  known  who  she  was,  and  she  could  have  been 
sitting  here  at  this  moment,  and  I  believe  it  is  to 
her  that  you  will  give  your  pearls,"  said  Monty. 
"  There 's  Providence  in  it.  Supposing  I  had  gone 
to  the  opera  with  you,  I  never  could  have  seen  her. 
iWhat  a  thought !  But  I  picked  her  out  of  the  rabble 
for  you,  Duchess,  and  for  myself." 

"  Who  ?  who  ?  "  asked  the  Duchess,  slightly  per- 
turbed. "  I  never  knew  that  I  had  any  friends  in 
the  rabble  —  " 

"  Your  grand-niece." 

"  But  I  have  none." 

"  Lord  Swaffham's  daughter,"  said  Monty,  with 
his  exciting  and  excited  eyes  fixed  upon  the  old  wo- 
man. "  I  Ve  come  to  ask  you  if  you  will  recognise 
her  at  once,  if  you  will  allow  her  to  come  here  at  once. 
Think  of  it.  She  's  in  a  London  cab-yard  at  this 
moment ! " 

"  Here  's  lightning  out  of  the  clouds,"  said  the 
Dowager.  "  But  you  're  mistaken.  Never  my  niece. 
How  could  that  be  ?  She  's  only  my  niece  in  a  sort 
of  a  way,  a  very  disagreeable  sort  of  a  way.  Oh 
no!  I  could  not  recognise  her.  I  had  forgotten  all 
about  that  unfortunate.  .  .  .  Well.  ...  I  never 
expected  that  it  would  be  you  who  would  revive  it. 
I  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  her." 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER         187 

Monty  seemed  crushed.  In  a  moment  the  spirit 
of  badinage  had  vanished  from  the  conversation. 
A  shrewd  and  contemptuous  look  appeared  in  the 
eyes  of  the  haughty  old  woman  who  drew  herself 
up  and  sat  erect. 

"  Well,  have  you  seen  any  of  the  new  plays  ? " 
she  asked  with  the  most  absolute  indifference. 

"  Duchess,"  he  replied  a  little  coldly  and  severely, 
"  for  the  present  I  am  much  more  interested  in  this 
piece  of  living  drama  which  I  have  stumbled  upon. 
Is  it  fair  that  this  beautiful  and  accomplished  girl 
should  be  left  unprotected  in  such  surroundings? 
By  Heaven,  no !  " 

The  raising  of  his  voice  and  his  look  of  earnest- 
ness and  scorn  irritated  the  Dowager,  who  told  him 
not  to  be  silly. 

"  She  's  your  grand-niece.  Is  it  her  fault  if  her 
father  —  " 

"  What  is  her  name  ?  " 

"  They  call  her  Dorothy  Larkin." 

"  Humph,"  she  said.    "  To  be  sure,  I  remember." 

"  Of  course  her  real  name  should  be  Darsham. 
Can  you  tell  me  anything  about  her  father  ?  " 

"  Nothing  whatever.  Now,  that  is  enough,  Monty. 
What  have  /  to  do  with  it?  What  claim  has 
she  on  me  ?  "  asked  the  Dowager,  with  momentary 
indignation. 

"  I  am  very  disappointed,"  said  the  youth.  "  I 
counted  upon  different  sentiments  from  you.  Why, 


188         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

a  minute  or  two  ago  you  said  you  liked  people  who 
have  warm  hearts." 

"What  is  she  like?" 

"  They  say,"  replied  Monty,  with  a  gleam  of  hope, 
"  that  she  's  like  her  mother.  At  first  I  thought  her 
eyes  were  dove  grey,  but  I  saw  violet,  too,  in 
them  —  " 

"  Then  she 's  a  Darsham,"  said  Arabella,  invol- 
untarily, and  then  checked  herself. 

Monty  was  encouraged,  however,  and  he  began  to 
describe  the  scene  with  his  father. 

"  Sir  John  was  utterly  right.  I  should  have  done 
the  same." 

"  I  don't  believe  it.  If  you  had  seen  her  you 
could  n't  have  behaved  so  cruelly." 

"  Her  hair  ?  "  asked  the  Dowager.  "  The  way  she 
carries  herself  ?  Her  general  appearance  ?  And  her 
talk?  A  cab-yard,  you  said!  Oh,  I  remember  the 
odious.  .  .  .  Impossible.  .  .  .  Don't  say  anything 
more." 

"  Masses  of  burnished  black  hair.  My  father  had 
remarked  her.  So  had  Minnie.  They  both  said  she 
was  lovely.  .  .  .  There  is  nothing  wrong  with  her 
talk,  but  she  is  shy,"  said  Monty. 

"Is  she  tall?" 

"  Yes,  and  very  graceful  —  and  a  face  —  " 

"  Fiddlesticks !  "  retorted  the  Duchess.  "  I  will 
not  see  her,  Monty,"  (pausing  here  to  observe  his 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         189 

look  of  disgust) ;  "  I  cannot  be  worried  with  it. 
At  my  age,  impossible.  How  could  I  be  asked  to 
have  her  with  me?  And  do  you  mean  to  tell  me 
that  you  have  fallen  in  love  with  her?  You  will 
ruin  yourself.  Who  could  receive  her  ?  " 

"  You  should  receive  her,"  replied  Monty,  angrily. 
"  Is  it  her  fault  that  she 's  a  natural  daughter  ?  " 

"  A  natural  daughter  makes  a  somewhat  unnatural 
niece,"  retorted  the  Duchess.  "  She  would  be  a 
terror  to  me.  What  could  I  do  with  her  ?  How  could 
I  explain  her  existence  ?  Bring  back  all  that  horrid 
affair  again !  Think  of  the  talk !  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  furiously.  "  Think  of  everything 
except  what  is  right  and  kind." 

"  I  will  not  have  any  more  of  this,"  said  the 
Duchess,  imperiously.  "  You  are  raking  open  an 
old  wound.  It  is  inconsiderate  of  you,  Monty.  I 
say,  who  will  receive  her  ?  She 's  not  like  the  children 
of  a  left-hand  marriage  of  royalty,  and  even  they, 
you  know,  find  difficulties  and  are  looked  at  askance. 
The  girl  is  probably  very  contented  as  she  is.  I 
should  be  surprised  if  she  even  knows  who  her  father 
was.  If  I  remember  rightly  —  But  oh,  I  refuse  to 
remember  at  all  —  " 

"  You  will  do  nothing  for  her  ?  "  asked  Monty. 

"  Nothing,"  she  replied. 

"  Then,"  he  said,  rising  abruptly,  "  I  suppose  there 
is  little  use  in  my  remaining." 


190         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

"  I  think  that  you  have  been  rude,  Marduke," 
said  the  Dowager,  while  a  flush  overspread  her  face. 
"You  ought  not  to  have  come  here  to  tell  me  what 
I  should  or  should  not  do.  You  have  pained  me  " 
(with  a  great  shake  of  her  curls).  "  I  am  agitated !  " 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Monty,  stiffly.  "  Very  sorry 
indeed." 

"  This  is  not  like  you,"  continued  Arabella,  re- 
proachfully. "You  have  been  most  unfeeling  and 
unreasonable.  Give  me  my  smelling-bottle.  .  .  . 
Thank  you.  ...  I  am  rather  surprised.  .  .  .  What 
have  /  to  do  with  Lord  Swaffham's  disagreeable.  .  .  . 
Oh  no.  ...  I  won't  even  talk  about  it.  ...  Just 
think  of  the  years  it  would  take  to  educate  this  —  this 
person  you  seem  to  know  —  to  teach  her  even  ele- 
mentary manners,  not  to  speak  of  grace  and  charm." 

"  Years  don't  seem  to  help  very  much  in  these 
matters,"  replied  Monty,  while  his  eyes  fixed  them- 
selves disdainfully  upon  her. 

In  an  instant  he  had  repented  and  was  vexed  at 
his  error;  but  at  that  moment  he  was  too  proud, 
too  enraged  to  ask  to  be  forgiven.  One  look  from 
Arabella,  and  he  knew  that  their  friendship  had  been 
suddenly  killed.  With  a  shaking  hand  the  old  woman 
touched  the  bell  which  was  fixed  on  the  wall  next 
her.  There  was  a  brief  silence  which  was  then  broken 
by  the  Duchess  Dowager,  who  said  quietly  — 

"  As  for  my  pearls,  I  never  cast  them  before  swine." 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         191 

Even  if  Monty  had  had  a  reply  ready  there  would 
not  have  been  time  to  make  it  because  the  door  was 
opened,  and  a  footman  entered. 

"  Show  Mr.  Marduke  downstairs,"  said  the 
Dowager. 

Monty  made  a  very  formal  bow,  and  left  the 
room.  As  he  crossed  Grosvenor  Square  and  felt 
the  fresh  wind  of  the  sparkling  winter  night  upon 
his  face,  he  muttered  — 

"  The  selfish  old  wretch !  " 


CHAPTER   THIRTEENTH 

"  ACH,  ja ! "  exclaimed  Herr  Habenichts,  clinking 
wine-glasses  with  Mr.  Botolph.  "  De  ancients  had  a 
veeping  philosopher,  and  a  laughing  philosopher,  and 
vy  should  not  ve  haf  a  dancing  one?  Your  health, 
Mr.  Botolph!" 

"  Thank  you.  Yours,"  replied  Mr.  Botolph,  rais- 
ing his  glass  and  addressing  his  friend  in  that  gentle 
and  very  courteous  voice  which  made  him  a  great 
favourite  at  Mrs.  Wix's.  "  And  how  is  the  dancing 
going  on  ? " 

"Vamously,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  sipping  his 
sherry  and  then  unbuttoning  his  frock  coat,  and  rub- 
bing his  hands  with  glee.  "  Ja,  vat  do  it  matter  vat 
ve  do  so  long  as  ve  keep  ourselves  gay  ?  I  vish  to 
write  another  book  on  de  real  gay  science,  de  science 
of  de  rhythms  of  life,  vor  we  can  make  music  even 
out  of  our  cries  and  sorrows,  as  Heine  says.  Tance 
vile  it  is  day,  Mr.  Botolph." 

"  You  seem  to  be  in  a  very  cheerful  mood,  Herr 
Habenichts.  It  is  most  inspiring,"  observed  Mr. 
Botolph,  while  a  faint  smile  lit  up  his  refined  fea- 
tures, and  a  host  of  memories  glimmered  for  a  mo- 

192 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         193 

ment  in  his  tired  grey  eyes.  "  You  are  a  fortunate 
man,  sir,  if  your  past  life  is  not  like  a  dragging, 
ever-lengthening  chain,  the  clanking  chain  which  St. 
Augustine  speaks  of,  the  chain  which  becomes  heavier 
and  heavier  until  it  coils  back  on  you  and  perhaps 
strangles  you  at  last !  " 

"  Ah !  "  said  Herr  Habenichts,  looking  gravely  at 
Mr.  Botolph.  "  St.  Augustine,  did  you  say.  Vot 
a  mind !  But  he  does  n't  say  quite  dat.  He  gives 
more  hope." 

"  Hope  ? "  repeated  Mr.  Botolph,  with  the  slight 
sigh  which  was  characteristic  of  him.  "  Do  you 
know  the  most  terrible  line  in  English  poetry  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Herr  Habenichts,  bringing  out  his 
pencil  and  note-book,  and  preparing  to  write  down 
the  line. 

""T  is  hope  is  the  most  hopeless  thing  of  all.'  " 

"  No.  I  von't  write  it,"  said  Herr  Habenichts, 
closing  his  note-book.  "  Vat  a  cynic  he  vas.  Oh, 
Mr.  Botolph!" 

Mr.  Botolph  seemed  vexed  that  he  had  betrayed 
any  emotion.  Usually,  indeed,  he  was  the  most 
reticent  of  men,  but  there  was  something  in  Herr 
Habenichts  which  invited  intimacy  and  disclosure. 
Mr.  Botolph  had  visited  Vienna,  and  that  fact  was 
the  first  link  in  their  friendship.  They  gradually 
discovered  a  similarity  in  matters  of  taste  and  in 


194:         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

their  views  of  human  experience.  Both  of  them  had 
been  bludgeoned  and  battered  by  the  forces  of  life, 
and  as  yet  neither  of  them  had  succumbed.  But  it 
was  obvious  that  Herr  Habenichts  had  the  greater 
chance  of  survival.  Mr.  Botolph  looked  upon  him 
with  a  kind  of  awe,  and  sometimes  wondered  if  he 
was  only  wearing  a  mask.  Was  he  wrapping  himself 
in  his  philosophic  cloak  only  as  in  a  kind  of  fancy 
costume  and  domino  for  the  tragic  dance  of  existence  ? 
Frequently,  long  after  almost  every  Wixian  was  in 
bed,  Mr.  Botolph  and  Herr  Habenichts  sat  in  the 
smoking-room  in  deep  conversation  which  was  dis- 
turbed only  about  midnight  by  the  arrival  of  Swelling, 
who,  tired  out  by  the  day's  exposure,  and  confessing 
himself  at  a  loss  to  understand  what  the  two  gentle- 
men were  talking  about  —  privately  suspecting,  in 
fact,  that  they  were  both  drunk  —  yawned  for  a  few 
minutes  in  their  company,  and  then  said  good-night. 
Mr.  Botolph  had  apparently  no  occupation.  He  spent 
his  day  in  reading  the  newspapers  or  writing  in  a 
large  manuscript  book  on  which  a  padlock  was  fixed, 
or  in  poring  over  certain  large  volumes  on  "  The 
History  of  Dancing,"  by  Hans  Habenichts.  Very 
often,  too,  Mr.  Botolph  took  his  daily  walk  up  and 
down  the  platforms  of  one  or  other  of  the  three 
great  railway  stations  in  the  vicinity  as  if  he  expected 
the  arrival  of  a  friend.  But  the  friend  did  not 
come.  Mr.  Botolph's  shabby  clothes  and  frayed  linen 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         195 

were  incapable  of  concealing  the  fact  that  their  owner 
was  a  gentleman.  His  general  appearance  and  his 
manner  of  address  caused  all  those  who  encountered 
him  to  wonder  what  financial  trouble,  what  specula- 
tion gone  wrong,  had  driven  him  to  seek  shelter  under 
the  roof  of  Mrs.  Wix.  But,  of  course,  his  apparent 
impecuniosity  did  not  differentiate  him  from  the 
other  boarders  of  whom  the  majority  belonged  to  the 
class  of  decayed  gentlefolks.  His  height  and  his 
manner  of  carrying  himself,  his  well-shaped  head, 
slightly  bent,  his  smooth  silver-grey  hair,  the  white- 
ness of  his  hands  and  his  thin  fingers,  and  the  sub- 
dued pride  of  his  face  marked  him  off,  however, 
from  other  men.  And  at  least  Herr  Habenichts 
found  pleasure  in  the  company  of  one  who,  when  he 
chose  to  talk,  generally  talked  well. 

"  Pray,"  said  Mr.  Botolph,  attempting,  but  with- 
out success,  to  efface  any  impression  of  personal 
trouble  which  he  might  have  made,  "  allow  me  to 
offer  my  congratulations  if  something  pleasant  has 
happened  to  you.  What  a  delightful  world  this  would 
be,  if  health  were  as  infectious  as  disease,  and  if 
good  fortune  happened  to  be  a  contagious  thing! 
In  that  case,  Herr  Habenichts,  I  believe  that  you 
would  be  in  great  request" 

"  Oh,"  cried  Herr  Habenichts,  beginning  to  laugh, 
"  it 's  only  a  leettle  ting  dat  has  made  me  happy.  Do 
you  know  Mr.  Svevling  ?  " 


196         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

"Swefling?"  repeated  Mr.  Botolph. 

"  De  young  man  who  alvays  comes  to  de  Sunday 
supper  and  sometimes  looks  in  here  at  night  ven 
you  and  I  are  talking  togeder." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Botolph.  "  I  think  you  said 
that  he  is  a  cabman." 

"  A  nice  young  vellow.  Only  a  cabman,  but  vat 
of  dat  if  he  drives  veil  and  is  kind  to  his  horse? 
He  and  I  had  a  misonderstanding.  Oh,  fery  bad! 
But  now  he  onderstands,  and  we  shook  hands  last 
night !  "  said  Herr  Habenichts,  while  his  face  beamed 
on  Mr.  Botolph. 

Mr.  Botolph  had  too  delicate  a  sense  of  what  was 
proper  to  ask  any  questions  about  the  quarrel,  and 
Herr  Habenichts  was  too  honourable  to  divulge  to 
a  stranger  or  to  anyone  the  private  affairs  of  Swef- 
ling or  of  Marduke  or  of  his  pupil  Dorothy.  And 
so,  after  Mr.  Botolph  had  said  simply  "  That 's 
good,"  the  conversation  was  shunted  on  to  other  lines, 
until  it  travelled  back  to  the  question  of  gay  and 
gloomy  temperaments. 

"  Perhaps,"  suggested  Mr.  Botolph,  with  a  smile, 
"  you  have  an  excellent  digestion,  Herr  Habenichts  ?  " 

"  But,"  replied  Herr  Habenichts,  "dat  must  be  true 
of  us  both,  since  ve  stop  so  long  here  and  are  not 
avraid  of  de  cuisine  of  Mrs.  Vix !  " 

It  was  one  of  Mr.  Botolph's  peculiarities  that  he 
always  carried  a  railway  time-table,  and,  in  fact, 


THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER         197 

Bradshaw  was  at  that  moment  lying  upon  his  knee. 
He  excused  himself  to  Herr  Habenichts,  and  said 
that  he  desired  to  consult  it.  After  he  had  turned 
over  the  pages  dealing  with  steamship  sailings  and 
the  railway  connections  therewith,  he  closed  the 
book,  clasped  it  in  his  hands,  and  then  lay  back  in 
his  chair.  Meanwhile  Herr  Habenichts  was  reading 
Les  Trophees,  and  had  become  oblivious  to  his  sur- 
roundings. Suddenly  Mr.  Botolph  was  heard  mut- 
tering to  himself,  but  Herr  Habenichts,  who  was 
familiar  with  this  singular  habit  of  his  friend  and 
sometimes  indulged  in  it  himself,  paid  no  attention. 

"  The  good  ship,"  Mr.  Botolph  was  muttering, 
"did  not  go  down  with  all  on  board.  Great  God, 
not  all!  Some  were,  perhaps,  saved  —  and  among 
them  —  why  should  I  not  hope  ? " 

Then  he  rose  as  if  in  haste,  and  a  look  of  great 
expectancy  and  a  smile  of  anticipation  of  something 
delightful  shone  about  his  face. 

"  Herr  Habenichts,  I  am  just  going  across  to 
Euston  to  meet  the  6.10.  I  think  that  my  son  will 
be  in  that  train,  from  Liverpool,  you  know,  where  he 
very  likely  landed  this  morning,"  said  Mr.  Botolph, 
and  hurried  out  of  the  room  to  run  over  to  Euston  as 
he  had  run  many  a  time  during  the  last  two  and  a 
half  years. 

"  Ach,  ja,  poor  Mr.  Botolph !  "  exclaimed  Herr 
Habenichts.  "  Vat  can  be  done  ?  It  is  impossible 


198          THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

to  persvade  him  dat  his  son  vas  drowned,  and  dere 
he  goes  again,  expecting  to  see  de  dear  boy  running 
into  his  arms.  Mein  Gott !  Mein  Gott !  " 

Thus  in  spite  of  himself  Herr  Habenichts  was 
drawn  back  to  the  contemplation  of  graver  matters. 
But  the  truth  is  that  his  high  spirits  were  more 
apparent  than  real,  and  that  on  that  particular  day 
he  had  premonitions  of  trouble.  To  begin  with, 
he  had  had  a  trying  scene  with  his  porter  Ridpath. 
In  order  to  placate  his  own  outraged  sense  of  authority 
and  in  fulfilment  of  his  promise  to  Monty  Marduke, 
he  had  decided  to  dismiss  Ridpath  on  account  of 
disobedience.  During  the  interview  between  master 
and  servant,  however,  the  magnanimity  of  Herr 
Habenichts  threatened  to  betray  him  into  weakness. 
He  was  a  man  who  found  it  difficult  to  inflict  pain 
or  even  to  pronounce  harsh  words.  If,  for  example, 
he  had,  in  a  moment  of  impatience,  spoken  a  rough 
word  to  a  backward  pupil,  he  was  certain  to  have  a 
sleepless  night.  And  although  next  day  he  did  not 
formally  apologise,  since  that  course  would  be  bad 
for  discipline,  he  gave  special  encouragement  to  the 
pupil  whom,  as  he  feared,  he  might  have  discouraged 
at  the  previous  lesson.  His  theory  of  education  was 
based  on  the  principle  of  the  cultivation  of  plants. 
Rough  treatment  of  any  plant,  if  prolonged,  will 
ultimately  ruin  it.  And  he  pointed  out  that  as  gar- 
deners are  usually  mild  and  patient  men,  so  the  ex- 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER         199 

pert  in  this  more  subtle  spiritual  horticulture,  the 
gardener  of  the  soul,  should  have  a  benign  mind  and 
merciful  hands.  His  own  treatment  of  Eidpath  had 
been  typical  of  his  belief  in  the  regenerative  power 
of  character.  The  fact  that  Ridpath  had  been  a 
thief  did,  it  must  be  admitted,  cause  much  searching 
of  heart  to  Herr  Habenichts  when  he  thought  of  the 
cloakrooms  and  umbrella-stands  at  Jellini's.  And 
he  often  wondered  with  vexation  if,  in  employing 
such  a  man,  he  was  rightly  considering  his  pupils' 
interests.  But,  happily,  Ridpath  appeared  to  be 
reformed  and  transformed.  Not  an  article  had  been 
stolen.  The  rooms  were  kept  in  the  most  perfect 
order,  and,  indeed,  Herr  Habenichts  considered  his 
porter  to  be  a  shining  vindication  of  his  trust  in 
human  nature.  Therefore,  he  was  the  more  displeased 
and  shocked  when  he  discovered  that  Ridpath  had 
been  guilty  of  gross  disobedience,  and,  besides,  of 
gross  insolence  towards  the  son  of  the  patron  of 
Jellini's.  A  mere  reproof  would  be  an  insufficient 
punishment  for  such  a  betrayal.  Assuming,  there- 
fore, as  stern  a  look  as  possible,  Herr  Habenichts 
paid  a  surprise  visit  to  the  Academy,  and  found  Rid- 
path in  shirt-sleeves,  diligently  sweeping  the  floor 
of  the  smaller  dancing-room. 

"Sich  a  dust  them  young  misses  and  gents  kicks 
up !  "  said  Ridpath,  greeting  his  employer.  "  Wy, 
I  'm  blowed,  if  this  ain't  the  Sahara." 


200         THE   OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

Herr  Habenichts  said  "  Good  morning "  de- 
murely, and  went  to  the  corner  where  the  piano  stood. 
Here  he  picked  up  a  fiddle-bow  which  one  of  the 
musicians  had  left  behind.  Then  he  walked  up  and 
down  the  room,  beating  time  with  the  fiddle-bow 
amid  the  clouds  of  dust,  and  endeavoring  to  induce 
a  severe  and  hectoring  mood.  Suddenly  he  stopped, 
turned  round,  and  without  warning  informed  Rid- 
path  that  his  services  were  no  longer  required  at 
Jellini's. 

"  I  '11  be  shot !  "  exclaimed  Ridpath,  letting  his 
brush  fall  flat  before  him.  "  If  this  ain't  a  piece  of 
news,  I'm  jiggered.  Wot  for?" 

"  You  disobeyed  me !  "  said  Herr  Habenichts,  turn- 
ing red  in  the  face  and  actually  looking  fierce.  "  I 
vill  not  haf  it!  You  wrote  dat  letter  to  de  patron's 
son,  and  you  are  a  villain.  Dat 's  vot  you  are,  a 
scoundrel.  Here  are  your  vages,  and  go  avay." 

"  I  'm  blowed  if  this  ain't  reel  crull,"  replied 
Ridpath,  excitedly,  as  he  stared  down  at  his  master, 
who  held  out  two  sovereigns.  "  All  along  of  that 
screwy  cove  Swefling.  Wot 's  'e  or  'is  darned  sweet- 
heartin'  to  me,  I  'd  jist  like  to  know  ?  Let  every 
one  look  sharp  arter  hisself,  that 's  wot  I  hollars  out." 

"  Put  on  your  jacket  and  go  quietly  avay,"  sug- 
gested Herr  Habenichts,  still  extending  his  hand  with 
the  wages  between  his  thumb  and  his  forefinger. 
"  Take  your  vages." 


201 

"  Ain't  I  been  a  good  sarvint  ?  " 

"  And  haf  I  not  been  a  goot  master  ?  "  demanded 
Herr  Habenichts. 

"  You  'ave,  sir.  The  wery  best.  O  my  day- 
lights, you've  put  me  out  o'  curl  by  this  suddent 
goin'  on  of  yourn.  I  says  you  're  the  wery  best 
master  a  feller  like  me,  wot  was  born  without  a  shirt 
on  'is  back,  could  find.  You  're  a  respeckabel  ole 
gent  wot  took  me  off  the  streets' wen  I  was  out  on 
the  nick  and  'ad  n't  a  keracter.  And  now  all  along 
of  that  blastit  cabby  I  Ve  got  the  sack,  'ave  I  ?  Wy, 
I  was  jist  sayin'  to  a  pal  yest'day  that  you  're  the 
decentest  ole  gent  I  've  knowed,  even  though  you  is  a 
German." 

"  I  'm  vrom  Vienna,"  said  Herr  Habenichts, 
angrily. 

"  I  knows,"  said  Ridpath,  "  and  as  I  says  to  my 
pal,  "E  's  a  good  sort  is  'Err  'Abenicks,  and  'e  's 
treated  me  jist  as  if  he  was  my  nunky,  for  'e  's  been 
my  salwation.'  It 's  true,  and  yet  it 's  sich  an  idear! 
I  could  die  larfin'.  For  though  yer  a  dancin'  master 
yev  been  my  salwation  jist  every  bit  as  good  's  the 
Salwation  Army,  'Err  'Abenicks.  It  was  yer  kind- 
ness that  did  the  trick,  for  yer  treats  me  like  a 
gen'leman." 

Herr  Habenichts  was  discomfited,  and  he  turned 
round,  and  stared  at  the  opposite  wall. 

"  It  is  fery  painful,"  he  exclaimed  helplessly;  "  but 
go  avay !  " 


202         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

"  Before  I  knowed  you,"  continued  Ridpath,  ad- 
dressing his  master's  back,  "  I  allus  liked  a  rovin' 
life,  and  longed  to  shake  a  loose  leg.  I  was  fly  to 
the  dodge,  and  was  out  on  the  pinch  all  day,  a  riglar 
bad  hook,  and  then  I  meets  you,  'Err  'Abenicks,  and 
got  the  straight  tip." 

"  I  haf  given  you  ten  shillings  extra,"  said  Herr 
Habenichts,  turning  half  round  and  holding  out  the 
wages  again. 

"  I  take  my  affidavy  it 's  juiced  'ard  on  a  feller, 
and  all  along  of  that  scaly  Swefling.  I  won't  take 
them  quids,  'Err  'Abenicks,  and  so  jist  drop  yer 
harm,  or  you'll  tire  it  no  end.  I  ax  yer  pardin. 
I  '11  knuckle  down  fair  and  no  funkin'." 

"  I  vish  no  one  to  knuckle  down  to  me.  I  only 
vish  justice.  Dere  is  a  fool  porn  every  minute,  and 
you  are  one,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  flourishing  the 
fiddle-bow  in  an  authoritative  manner. 

"  It 's  hup  with  yer  humbereller  wen  the  rain  conies 
down,"  exclaimed  Ridpath,  lifting  the  fallen  brush. 
"  And  so  it 's  no  gammon  ?  I  Ve  got  to  go  ?  Well, 
I  never  knowed  who  was  my  father  or  mother  either. 
I  was  jist  chucked  on  the  streets  as  you  chuck  waste- 
paper  in  the  gutter.  I  remembers  wen  I  used  to 
sleep  on  the  hembankment  chitterin'  the  whole  blessed 
night,  and  dreamin'  I  was  dyin'  of  starwation.  You 
knows,  'Err  'Abenicks,  that 's  wot  the  wery  poor  often 
dreams.  But  I  Ve  lamed  wot  short  grub  means,  and 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         203 

I  can  lam  it  again.  I  'm  weak  in  the  back,  and  so 
I  'd  sooner  sweep  than  shovel.  I  s'pose  I  can  sweep 
the  streets  again  jist  the  same  as  this  dancin'  floor. 
O  Lor* !  It 's  come  so  suddent.  It  makes  a  feller 
see  stars.  I  thinks  I  've  got  the  trick,  though.  I 
knowed  a  man  wot  done  fairly  decent  in  the 
rag-and-bottle  line.  It 's  nuffin'  to  me  who  's  king. 
It  don't  take  my  attention.  There'll  be  no  change 
for  me  in  this  world.  I  '11  start  a  rag-and-bottle 
store.  I  'm  no  scholard,  and  so  I  thanks  you 
quite  short  for  wot  you  done  for  me.  Good-bye, 
'Err  'Abenicks,  and  s'pose  you  needs  any  rags  or 
bottles  —  " 

"  Are  you  fery  sorry  ?  "  asked  Herr  Habenichts, 
appalled  at  Ridpath's  distressed  appearance. 

"  In  course,  I  'm  sorry,"  replied  Ridpath.  "  Ain't 
that  wot  I  've  been  sayin'  ?  " 

With  the  intention  either  of  making  a  display  of 
his  authority  and  avenging  it,  or  of  relieving  his 
own  confused  feelings,  Herr  Habenichts  approached 
his  servant  in  a  very  threatening  attitude.  Then  he 
raised  the  fiddle-bow  like  a  rod  of  correction,  and 
broke  it  across  Ridpath's  back. 

"  Dere  now,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  haf  punished  you. 
It  is  vinished !  " 

"  That 's  Persimmon ;  that 's  real  jam.  And  now 
we  're  quits,"  said  Ridpath,  and  continued  sweeping, 
while  Herr  Habenichts,  thoroughly  satisfied  with  the 


204         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

result  of  the  court-martial,  went  to  a  violin  seller 
and  bought  a  new  fiddle-bow. 

Thus,  during  Mr.  Botolph's  absence  at  Euston 
Station,  Herr  Habenichts,  as  he  sat  in  the  sombre 
twilight  of  Mrs.  Wix's  parlour,  was  able  to  reflect 
upon  the  surprising  events  of  the  last  few  days.  Al- 
though he  was  pleased  that  he  had  not  parted  with 
Ridpath,  and  that  he  had  cleared  up  the  misunder- 
standing with  Swefling,  he  felt  slightly  uneasy.  He 
was  surprised,  for  instance,  that  Dorothy  had  not 
visited  Jellini's  for  her  Tuesday  lesson,  and  his  re- 
cent encounter  with  Mrs.  Bleeks  made  him  fear  that 
there  was  trouble  in  Larkin's  yard.  Then,  since  that 
trouble  was  doubtless  caused  by  Monty  Marduke, 
what,  thought  Herr  Habenichts,  can  that  headstrong 
young  man  be  doing  ?  It  was  time  to  inform  him  of 
what  had  happened  to  the  box  of  sweets,  and  since 
forty-eight  hours  and  more  had  passed  since  Herr 
Habenichts  had  undertaken  the  commission,  it  was 
strange  that  Marduke  had  made  no  inquiries.  Herr 
Habenichts  decided  to  write  to  him  at  once,  and  to 
take  the  opportunity  of  warning  him  not  to  persist 
in  his  pursuit  of  a  pupil  whom  her  master  still  re- 
garded as  the  future  Mrs.  Richard  Swefling.  He  had 
risen  for  the  purpose  of  going  to  the  writing-table 
when  he  heard  the  knocker  on  the  front  door  being 
loudly  sounded.  He  knew  the  postman's  character- 
istic rat-tat,  and  he  was  not  deceived,  because  pres- 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER         205 

ently  Wurm  entered  with  two  letters.  On  one  of 
the  envelopes  the  address  was  typewritten.  It  looked 
business,  and  Herr  Habenichts  put  on  his  spectacles, 
and  placed  himself  immediately  under  the  incan- 
descent gas  bracket  which  Wurm  had  lit.  But  he 
was  very  shocked  to  find  that  the  letter  came  from 
Sir  John  Marduke's  solicitors,  who  announced  that 
"  for  reasons  which  Mr.  Habenichts  no  doubt  per- 
fectly understood,"  their  client  had  withdrawn  his 
patronage  from  "  The  Original  Jellini  Academy  of 
Dancing,"  and  now  forbade  the  use  of  his  name  in 
any  connection  whatever  therewith.  Moreover,  acting 
upon  the  instructions  of  Sir  John  Marduke,  they  now 
called  up  the  loan  which  their  client  had  been  pleased 
to  grant  to  Mr.  Habenichts.  The  concluding  para- 
graph contained  two  statements:  item  that  Sir  John 
Marduke  waived  his  claim  for  interest  on  the  said 
loan,  and  item  that  in  case  the  debtor  might,  owing 
to  this  sudden  demand,  find  himself  in  difficulty,  a 
delay  of  three  months  would  be  granted  for  the  re- 
payment of  the  loan.  Herr  Habenichts  felt  as  if 
he  were  being  throttled.  He  had  received  a  severe 
shock,  and  in  the  violent  glare  of  the  incandescent 
gas  he  looked  livid.  Having  readjusted  his  spec- 
tacles, he  re-read  the  letter,  groaning.  Then  he  sank 
down  on  a  chair  and  collapsed. 

"  Ach  ja !  "  he  murmured,  "  I  velt  it  vos  to  come. 
All  becose  of  dat  blessed  Dorrie  and  de  boy !  " 


206         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTEE 

After  a  few  moments,  however,  his  decision  was 
made.  He  would  not  accept  the  slight  alleviation 
promised  in  the  last  paragraph  of  the  letter.  His 
pride  compelled  him  to  repay  the  loan  immediately 
and  with  interest,  even  although  no  interest  was  de- 
manded. But,  then,  what  would  be  left  in  the  bank  ? 
Ever  since  that  loan  had  been  obtained  he  had  paid 
interest  to  Sir  John  Marduke  with  the  most  ad- 
mirable punctuality.  And,  it  ought  to  be  said,  that 
if  Monty's  unfortunate  indiscretion  at  the  pupils' 
ball  had  not  taken  place,  the  baronet  would  have 
waived  the  loan  altogether.  But  a  great  revulsion 
of  feeling  had  occurred,  and  Herr  Habenichts  would 
require  to  suffer  for  the  folly  of  his  patron's  son. 
It  was  thanks  to  Sir  John  Marduke  that  he  had  been 
able  to  liquidate  the  debt  which  had  threatened  Jel- 
lini's  with  extinction.  But  he  had  paid  his  creditors 
far  sooner  than  was  stipulated  by  the  arrangement 
which  he  had  made  with  them.  Eager  to  be  free  and 
too  honourable  to  hoard  money  which  properly  be- 
longed to  other  people,  he  had  left  nothing  for  himself. 
The  fees  had  been  spent.  Now,  the  quarterly  rent 
of  the  rooms  would  be  shortly  due,  and  if  Sir  John 
Marduke  were  to  be  reimbursed  Herr  Habenichts 
would  find  himself  face  to  face  with  a  lamentable 
deficit.  In  great  excitement  he  calculated  that  after 
repayment  of  the  loan  he  would  be  left  with  little 
more  than  twenty  pounds  in  the  world.  He  picked 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER         207 

up  the  other  letter,  which  contained  news  not  fitted 
to  assuage  this  wound  which  he  had  received.  It 
was  from  Sam  Larkin,  who,  in  vigorous  if  somewhat 
inelegant  English,  stated  that  Dorothy  would  never 
put  her  foot  within  Jellini's  again,  that  this  was  her 
own  decision,  and  that  she  deeply  regretted  ever  to 
have  come  under  Herr  Habenichts'  influence. 

"  Vat  haf  I  done  ? "  exclaimed  Herr  Habenichts 
in  despair,  as  he  stared  round  the  room.  "  I  haf 
done  noting  wrong  to  anyone.  I  vished  de  fery  best 
vor  dem  all !  " 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Botolph  re-entered  the  room. 
He  was  looking  ill  and  exhausted,  and  he  gave  Herr 
Habenichts  a  strange  glance  as  he  sat  down  opposite 
him.  This  periodical  return  from  a  fruitless  quest 
was  always  a  sad  spectacle,  and  Herr  Habenichts 
was  at  a  loss  to  know  how  to  comfort  Mr.  Botolph. 
He  had  been  almost  ashamed  of  his  own  high  spirits 
and  the  merry  mood  of  half  an  hour  ago.  For  a 
few  moments  Mr.  Botolph  remained  silent,  and  his 
eyes  had  a  trance-like  appearance.  Then  he  began 
his  soft  whispers  again. 

"  The  good  ship  did  not  go  down  with  all  on 
board !  It  was  the  South  Atlantic,  wreckage  was  seen 
and  the  name  Morning  Star  on  a  piece  of  white  painted 
wood.  .  .  .  The  sea  is  a  very  rough  nurse  of  ships! 
.  .  .  You  know,"  (addressing  Herr  Habenichts,)  "at 
Euston  I  saw  fathers  and  mothers  embracing  their  sons 


208         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

who  had  come  from  long  voyages  ...  a  beautiful 
sight.  .  .  .  My  boy  was  not  there." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Botolph,"  cried  Herr  Habenichts,  rising 
and  taking  his  friend's  hand,  "vat  can  I  do  vor 
you?" 

Mr.  Botolph  smiled  faintly  and  thanked  him. 

"  I  think  he  means  to  give  me  a  great  surprise," 
he  said.  "  He  will  not  announce  himself.  He  will 
come  suddenly,  and  wishes  to  make  my  joy  perfectly 
delirious ! " 

"  We  are  broders  in  trouble,"  said  Herr  Habenichts. 

"  Ah,"  replied  Mr.  Botolph,  "  I  should  think  with 
your  temperament  trouble  does  not  trouble  you 
much." 

Herr  Habenichts  then  explained  with  many  ges- 
tures what  had  happened  to  him,  but  he  concluded 
with  the  cheerful  declaration  that  he  would  face 
poverty  again  with  all  the  courage  at  his  command. 

"  And  I  think  that  you  can  command  a  great  deal," 
said  Mr.  Botolph,  who  had  listened  with  anxious 
sympathy.  "Count  upon  me  for  some  little  help. 
Of  course,  it  must  be  very  little,  because  I  also  am 
shockingly  poor." 

"  Ich  danke  bestens !  "  replied  Herr  Habenichts ; 
"  but  I  von't  be  beaten.  Nein,  nein !  I  '11  vind  a  new 
vay  of  life.  I  am  sorry  to  close  Jellini's  becos  it  gave 
me  a  living  and  leisure  to  read  books,  and  I  loved 
all  de  pupils.  So  poor  Ridpath  too  vill  lose  de  place 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER         209 

after  all.  De  storm  comes  on  again.  De  vind  blows ! 
I  know  all  de  four  vinds  of  dis  vorld,  I  haf  velt 
dem  all.  Ah,  Mr.  Botolph,  if  de  vorst  comes  and  de 
bailiff  seize  all  my  tings  at  Jellini's,  I  vill  ask  you 
to  buy  back  de  statue  of  Terpsichore.  She  look  down 
so  mild-eyed  and  happy.  I  cannot  give  her  avay! 
She  is  de  symbol  of  de  rythym  of  life  and  de  beau- 
tiful tances." 

Mr.  Botolph  promised  to  rescue  Terpsichore  from 
the  bailiff. 

"  And  now,"  added  Herr  Habenichts,  "  vat  can 
do  us  harm  in  dis  vorld  ?  Noting.  De  light  affliction 
is  but  vor  a  moment.  Even  in  de  shackles  de  spirit 
keeps  dancing.  But  I  am  avraid  of  one  ting.  Say 
noting  about  my  troubles  to  Mrs.  Vix !  She  turn  me 
out.  I  haf  got  used  to  dis  house.  It  is  my  home. 
Ah,  say  noting  to  Mrs.  Vix!  I  am  never  avraid  of 
males,  but  only  of  vemales,  and  Mrs.  Vix  is  a 
vixen !  " 

Mr.  Botolph  smiled,  and  promised  to  say  nothing 
to  Mrs.  Wix. 

"  We  are  both  bankrupt  men,"  he  eaid.  "  I  have 
never  told  you  my  history,  Herr  Habenichts." 

"  No,"  replied  Herr  Habenichts ;  "  and  I  vould  like 
to  hear  it." 

"  I  had  eighty  thousand  pounds,"  said  Mr.  Bo- 
tolph. 
But  in  the  same  moment  Wurm  began  to  strike  the 


210         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

terrible  dinner  gong.  Mr.  Botolph  ceased  speaking, 
and  stopped  his  ears.  When  the  noise  had  passed 
he  promised  to  unfold  on  another  occasion  as  much 
of  his  history  as  might  interest  Herr  Habenichts. 
And  so  they  both  went  to  join  Mrs.  Wix  at  dinner. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEENTH 

MBS.  Wrx  was  a  woman  of  many  inconsistencies,  but 
she  rather  seemed  to  rejoice  in  the  contradictions 
which  she  discovered  in  her  own  character.  It  was 
possible  for  her  to  provide  a  Christmas  dinner  which 
might  be  truthfully  described  as  a  scandal,  and  never- 
theless to  surprise  her  boarders  with  a  very  creditable 
repast  in  the  second  week  of  January.  This  alternate 
starvation  and  repletion  was  named  by  Herr  Habe- 
nichts  "  Ramazan  "  and  "  Bairam  " ;  but  no  one  un- 
derstood him  except  Mr.  Botolph  who  had  travelled 
in  the  lands  of  Islam.  And,  on  the  whole,  Mr.  Bo- 
tolph preferred  the  Wixian  fast  to  the  Wixian  feast. 
Not  so  hia  vivacious  friend,  who,  like  Dr.  Johnson, 
was  not  ashamed  to  confess  that  he  enjoyed  the  pleas- 
ures of  good  eating.  Herr  Habenichts  consulted  Mrs. 
Wix's  menu  as  if  it  had  been  a  weather  chart,  and 
waited  anxiously  for  the  moment  when  it  promised 
to  be  very  fair. 

"  Sossiges  ?    Did  you  say  sossiges,  sir  ?  "  she  once 
asked  him  sharply. 

211 


212         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

"  Dat  's  so.  I  said  sossiges,  Madame,"  he  replied, 
looking  straight  at  her,  and  allowing  a  smile  to  eddy 
about  his  broad,  bland  face. 

"  There  's  no  sossiges.  We  never  keeps  them  mys- 
tery-bags. I  once  gave  'em,  and  two  of  the  boarders 
died  of  typhus,  and  we  had  the  inspector  twice  a 
week  for  three  months.  No,  thank  ye,"  said  Mrs. 
Wix,  tossing  her  head  and  rolling  her  eyes,  "  no  more 
mystery-bags.  So  you  '11  have  to  go  without  or  take 
cold  ham." 

She  feared  his  hearty  appetite,  and  that  was  why 
she  always  made  him  sit  at  her  right  hand.  She  like- 
wise forbade  him  to  speak  German  in  case  the  sound 
of  that  language  might  offend  his  fellow  boarders. 
In  fact,  Mr.  Snape,  the  dentist,  who  sat  at  her  left, 
and  Mr.  Coon,  the  journalist,  who  was  Mr.  Snape's 
neighbour,  both  intimated  that  unless  English  were 
spoken  at  table  they  would  seek  board  and  lodging 
elsewhere.  Now  there  was  nothing  which  vexed  Herr 
Habenichts  so  much  as  to  be  compelled  to  eat  a  meal 
in  silence.  And,  therefore,  he  cheerfully  chatted  in 
such  English  as  he  could  command,  and  was  not 
afraid  to  cross  swords  in  that  tongue  even  with  Mr. 
Coon.  Whether,  as  he  declared,  there  was  something 
Dionysian,  Rabelaisian  in  Mrs.  Wix,  or  whether  she 
feared  that  the  frequent  penury  of  her  bill  of  fare 
might  drive  away  those  of  her  clients  who  did  not  re- 
quire to  eat  and  sleep  on  credit,  the  fact  remains  that 


THE   OLD   DANCE   MASTER         213 

she  displayed  now  and  again  the  strangest  outbursts 
of  liberality,  and  that  on  such  occasions  her  menu  al- 
ways became  more  interesting.  Herr  Habenichts  pre- 
ferred to  believe  that  behind  her  formidable  exterior 
she  nursed  and  nourished  a  desire  for  periodic  expan- 
sion, good  cheer,  and  revelry.  His  surmise  was  cor- 
rect. Mrs.  Wix  might  shed  tears  of  rage  over  her 
butcher's  book  and  her  baker's  bill,  and  might  refer 
contemptuously  to  those  whom  Providence  sent  her 
from  the  four  winds  as  "  caterpillars  "  and  "  locusts," 
but  she  declared  that  it  was  not  in  her  nature  to  starve 
them,  and  the  occasional  eruptions  of  her  generosity 
were  admitted  to  compensate  for  the  lean  days  of  her 
catering. 

"  You  made  an  observation  about  roast  turkey  ?  " 
whispered  Mr.  Botolph  to  Herr  Habenichts,  as  they 
walked  towards  the  dining-room. 

"  I  smell  de  stuffing,"  said  Herr  Habenichts, 
sniffing  and  sifting  the  vapours  of  rich  and  unex- 
pected savour  which  met  his  nose  in  the  lobby  near 
the  pantry  door.  "Look!  By  de  statue  of  Terpsi- 
chore, I  see  tree  great  turkeys  in  dere !  She  's  got 
dem  cheap,  Christmas  remnants !  " 

There  was  an  unusual  stir  in  the  passages,  the  staff 
of  servants  seemed  to  have  been  augmented,  and  a 
great  clatter  of  dishes  and  the  noise  of  cutlery,  to- 
gether with  the  scurrying  hither  and  thither  of  Wurm 
and  his  subordinates,  indicated  some  extraordinary 


214         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTEE 

event,  and  Herr  Habenichts  was  impatient  to  reach 
the  dining-room. 

"  Bless  the  man !  "  murmured  Mr.  Botolph,  limp- 
ing after  him,  "  the  thought  of  a  full  meal  makes  him 
forget  that  he  is  ruined." 

Polly  Wix  in  a  new  pink  frock  was  descending  the 
stair. 

"  Vat  is  on  to-night,  Miss  Polly  ? "  asked  Herr 
Habenichts  eagerly,  as  he  waited  to  let  her  pass. 

But  Polly  only  smiled  and  hurried  on  before  them. 

"  It 's  Bairam,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  nudging 
Mr.  Botolph.  "  Call  me  a  liar,  but  dis  is  de  perfum 
of  ox-tail  soup !  " 

There  were  three  tables  that  night,  and  they  were 
all  full.  At  the  head  of  the  first  sat  Mrs.  Wix  in 
a  loud  green  dress  with  a  low  bodice,  and  she  had 
green  ribbons  in  her  blond  hair,  and  a  paste  star.  Her 
rotund  shoulders  moved  slowly  up  and  down  like  mas- 
sive machinery  as  her  bosom  heaved.  There  must  have 
been  at  least  two  drops  of  the  tincture  of  belladonna 
in  each  eye,  because  the  pupils  were  extraordinarily 
enlarged,  and  were  very  blue.  Years  ago  her  silver 
bangles  had  been  sent  to  be  gilded,  and  now  they 
shone  like  good  yellow  gold.  What  with  the  anxie- 
ties of  the  preparation  for  this  dinner,  her  determina- 
tion to  keep  it  a  secret  till  the  last  moment,  her  joy 
in  surprising  her  detractors  and  grumblers  with  a 
sudden  view  of  her  magnificence,  Mrs.  Wix  sat  visibly 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         215 

excited,  although  triumphant.  Her  glance  at  the 
impoverished  Lady  Epworth  was  as  penetrating  as  the 
glance  of  Saint  Simon  at  any  of  the  courtiers  of  Louis 
le  Grand.  She  beckoned  Herr  Habenichts,  who,  fol- 
lowed by  Mr.  Botolph,  advanced  in  astonishment  to 
fill  the  vacant  places  on  her  right. 

"  Vy,  dis  is  a  gala  night,  Mrs.  Vix ! "  exclaimed 
Herr  Habenichts,  and  then  he  looked  across  for  en- 
lightenment towards  the  bald  Mr.  Snape,  who  grinned 
pensively.  "  Dem  tree  tables,  de  viewers,  de  lights, 
pretty  candle-shades  and  crackers !  Vat  is  it  ?  " 

"It's  my  birthday,"  said  Mrs.  Wix:  "I'm  fifty 
to-day  "  (she  was  fifty-five).  "  I  'm  a  jubilee." 

Herr  Habenichts  offered  his  congratulations,  and 
as  the  news  that  it  was  Mrs.  Wix's  birthday  spread 
to  the  other  two  tables,  at  one  of  which  Polly  pre- 
sided, all  heads  except  Lady  Epworth's  and  a  Mrs. 
Mepham's  were  dutifully  turned,  as  in  a  hive,  towards 
the  queen  bee.  Mrs.  Wix  bowed.  We  are  hardly 
concerned,  however,  with  her  other  boarders,  and  it 
is  sufficient  to  give  the  plan  of  her  own  table,  which 
was  as  follows :  — 


Mrs.  Wix. 


Herr  Habenichts. 
Mr.  Botolph. 
Mrs.  Mepham. 
Mr.  Pumpherston. 


Mr.  Snape. 
Mr.  Coon. 
Mrs.  Coon. 
Lady  Epworth. 


Sir  Sam  Epworth. 


216         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

Mrs.  Wix  declared  that  she  had  only  one  regret, 
which  was  that  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  not 
placed  alternately,  but  she  hoped  that  they  would 
nevertheless  enjoy  themselves,  and  then  she  called  for 
wine. 

]STow  it  was  wine  which  had  ruined  Sir  Samuel 
Epworth  and  had  brought  him  to  poverty  and  Mrs. 
Wix.  There  he  sat  with  his  eyes  staring  like  empty 
wine-glasses,  from  which  the  liquid  life  and  glow  had 
long  departed.  The  twitching  of  his  lips,  the  swaying 
of  his  head,  which  moved  mechanically  from  side  to 
side  like  the  movable  heads  of  porcelain  figures  when 
they  are  shaken,  and  the  tremor  in  his  hands  all  be- 
trayed the  reason  why  he  had  become  prematurely 
frail,  and  Lady  Epworth  prematurely  faded.  Owing 
to  his  neglect  of  his  fortune  it  had  been  lost  long  ago, 
and  they  were  living  on  the  remnants  and  scraps  of  it. 
The  one  power  which  now  regulated  Sir  Samuel's  life 
was  his  wife's  frown  or  else  her  forefinger  when  it 
was  raised  in  admonition.  She  seldom  allowed  him  to 
remain  long  out  of  her  sight,  and  she  used  to  trudge 
miles  through  the  London  streets  in  all  kinds  of 
weather  in  order  to  save  him  from  the  old  temptation. 
He  had  taken  the  pledge,  and  she  had  caused  him  pub- 
licly to  avow  that  it  had  been  his  salvation,  but  she 
never  trusted  him.  He  had  often  rebelled,  and  had 
refused  to  be  led  about  like  a  dog  on  a  string.  But  he 
now  depended  upon  her  for  everything,  and  had  grown 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         217 

quiescent,  for  she  was  the  lever  that  controlled  his 
volition.  His  mind  was  generally  vacant,  except 
when  filled  by  a  panorama  of  reproachful  memories. 
But  he  had  still  a  strange  longing,  hot  and  persistent, 
for  something  which  would  kill  and  satiate  his  de- 
vouring thirst.  His  wife,  who  was  as  thin  as  a 
shadow,  and  seemed  more  like  a  disembodied  being 
than  a  creature  of  blood  and  flesh,  was  glad  that  Prov- 
idence had  supplied  them  with  two  helpful  fellow 
boarders  in  the  persons  of  Mr.  Pumpherston  and  his 
widowed  sister,  Mrs.  Mepham.  Wine  had  also 
ruined  them,  but  for  a  wholly  different  reason.  Mr. 
Pumpherston  had  been  a  temperance  candidate  for 
Parliament.  Seven  times  he  had  attempted  to  enter 
the  House  of  Commons,  intent  on  the  abolition  of 
the  manufacture  and  sale  of  drinks,  and  seven  times 
he  had  failed.  That  he  had  not  made  an  eighth  as- 
sault was  due  to  the  fact  that  his  resources  and  those 
of  Mrs.  Mepham  had  been  already  consumed  in  the 
holy  war.  Their  poverty  justified  them  in  regard- 
ing themselves  as  genuine  martyrs.  If  there  was 
any  wavering  in  the  combat,  it  was  not  on  the  part 
of  Mrs.  Mepham,  who  was  a  furious  zealot,  but  on 
the  part  of  her  brother,  whose  throat  had  become  dry 
by  much  speaking.  Moreover,  Mr.  Pumpherston's 
doctor,  alarmed  at  his  patient's  exhausted  condi- 
tion, advised  the  moderate  use  of  whisky  as  a  medi- 
cine. At  first  Mr.  Pumpherston,  who  was  a  long, 


218         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

gaunt  man,  repudiated  the  suggestion  with  such  en- 
ergy as  was  left  him.  Gradually,  however,  the  low 
tide  of  his  animal  powers  made  him  wonder  whether 
it  would  be  wise  to  resist,  and  whether  Mrs.  Mepham 
was  not  a  bigot.  He  timidly  hinted  that  the  doc- 
tor had  recommended  a  little  alcohol  "  just  as  a 
medicine,  a  stimulant  for  weakened  nerves."  But 
Mrs.  Mepham  declared  that  she  could  not  believe 
her  ears,  and  looked  with  pained  surprise  upon  her 
brother.  Was  lie,  the  champion  of  such  a  cause, 
actually  going  to  dally  and  dawdle  with  the  enemy, 
and  bring  his  own  career  to  ridicule  ? 

"  No,  no,  Mary,"  he  replied,  with  slight  irritation, 
"  it 's  the  doctor's  idea.  I  never  thought  of  it  first. 
Never  believe  that !  " 

A  continued  loss  of  vitality,  however,  ultimately 
weakened  his  resolve,  and  in  desperation  for  a  re- 
newal of  his  old  fury  and  energy,  he  was  compelled 
secretly  to  obey  his  doctor's  injunction.  He  was  con- 
scious that  that  injunction  brought  him  pleasure. 
He  was  surprised  to  find  that  judicious  sips  of  the 
forbidden  liquor  in  which  he  indulged  even  more 
frequently  than  had  been  prescribed,  had  the  happy 
knack  of  restoring  his  animation.  This  lapse,  how- 
ever, resulted  in  severely  shaking  the  crusader's  faith 
in  all  his  past  propaganda.  For  he  asked  himself  if, 
after  all,  greater  wisdom  and  self-control  were  not 
displayed  in  the  moderate  use  of  the  gifts  of  Nature. 


THE    OLD  DANCE   MASTER         219 

He  attended  fewer  meetings.  A  furtive  and  hunted 
look  began  to  appear  in  his  countenance.  Like  Mr. 
Snape,  Mr.  Pumpherston  was  bald,  but  his  head  was 
longer  and  narrower,  and  instead  of  being  clean 
shaven  he  had  a  drooping  and  sorrowful  brownish 
moustache,  which  had  somehow  the  appearance  of 
receiving  daily  castigation.  Between  him  and  Sir 
Samuel  Epworth  there  was  a  secret  bond  of  sympathy. 
Each  divined  the  other's  thoughts.  It  must  have  been 
some  lingering  roguishness  in  Sir  Samuel  which 
made  him  desire  to  seduce  Mr.  Pumpherston,  and  to 
cause  him  to  apostatise.  Mr.  Pumpherston's  case 
interested  him,  for  Sir  Samuel  suspected  that  it  was 
now  the  case  of  a  hypocrite.  Mr.  Pumpherston 
had  admitted  that  he  had  suffered  all  the  pains  of 
abstinence. 

"  And  they  are  pains,  Sir  Samuel,"  he  added ; 
"  but  I  endure  them  for  the  sake  of  my  fellow-men, 
such  as  you." 

"  Ah,"  said  Sir  Samuel,  desiring  to  kick  him,  but 
not  openly  resenting  the  insult,  "  if  it  were  n't  for 
our  women,  your  sister  and  my  wife,  you  and  I  might 
have  some  happy  hours  together.  I  don't  like  your 
lonely,  secret  drinkers.  Give  me  a  company  of  good 
fellows  like  old  Habenichts.  Why,  if  I  only  dared  I 
would  join  him  and  Mr.  Botolph  at  their  beer  every 
night.  These  fellows  can  sleep,  whereas  I  can't  get 
a  wink.  What 's  the  best  nightcap  ?  " 


220 

"  I  can't  deny  it,  it  is  toddy,"  whispered  Mr. 
Pumpherston,  and  blushed. 

With  his  large  eyes,  in  which  the  light  of  fanati- 
cism, if  it  had  ever  really  dawned  there,  was  steadily 
dying,  Mr.  Pumpherston  looked  significantly  at  his 
friend,  and  proposed  a  walk.  Sir  Samuel  rose  to  his 
feet  in  an  instant,  and  clutched  his  hat,  and  then  ac- 
companied Mr.  Pumpherston  out  of  Fashion  Row  in 
the  direction  of  Euston.  Where  they  went  will  prob- 
ably never  be  known,  but  it  was  ascertained  that  when 
they  returned  they  were  both  smelling  of  peppermint. 

But  Sir  Samuel  and  Mr.  Pumpherston  had  one 
other  better  opportunity  of  becoming  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  each  other  A  series  of  great  tem- 
perance meetings  had  been  arranged  in  Yorkshire, 
and  Mr.  Pumpherston  was  to  be  the  principal 
speaker.  His  doctor,  however,  absolutely  refused  to 
allow  him  to  go,  and  the  disappointment  was,  per- 
haps, not  as  great  as  Mrs.  Mepham  supposed  it  to  be. 
She  offered  to  represent  her  brother,  and  she  begged 
Lady  Epworth,  who  was  also  deeply  interested  in 
abolition,  to  accompany  her.  Mr.  Pumpherston 
thought  that  the  proposal  was  admirable,  and  urged 
Lady  Epworth  to  go.  But  she  hesitated.  Sir  Samuel 
would  not  agree  to  exhibit  himself  any  more  upon  the 
platform  as  a  reformed  drunkard,  and  Lady  Ep- 
worth was  afraid  to  leave  him  behind.  Mr.  Pum- 
pherston promised  to  look  after  him  and  Lady  Ep- 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         221 

worth  was  at  length  convinced  that  her  husband 
could  not  be  in  safer  hands.  She  therefore  consented 
to  set  out  for  Yorkshire  with  Mrs.  Mepham,  and  it 
was  understood  that  they  would  be  absent  for  three 
nights.  On  one  of  those  nights  Mr.  Pumpherston 
invited  Sir  Samuel  into  his  bedroom  for  a  smoke 
and  chat. 

"  Hullo,  Pumpherston,"  said  Sir  Samuel.  "  How 
are  you  feeling  ?  I  wish  7  were  a  bachelor." 

"  Well,  of  course,  I  am  still  suffering  from  over- 
work. Those  speeches,  you  know !  The  last  election 
almost  killed  me,"  replied  Pumpherston,  inviting  his 
guest  to  take  a  seat. 

"  You  are  pale,"  said  Sir  Samuel.  "  Who  but  a 
fool  can  deny  that  there  is  some  justification  in  using 
liquor  very  cautiously  as  a  medicine  ?  " 

"  I  hope  you  remember,"  remarked  Mr.  Pumpher- 
ston, "  that  it  was  only  for  that  reason  that  I  con- 
sented to  touch  it  the  other  day  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Sir  Samuel.  "  Mum  's  the 
word.  You  're  safe  with  me.  /  'II  not  tell  anyone." 

Two  bottles  and  two  glasses  were  standing  on  the 
table,  and  Sir  Samuel  looked  at  them. 

"  I  defy  anyone,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pumpherston, 
in  an  attitude  of  self-justification,  "  to  go  on  working 
as  I  have  done  without  some  kind  of  stimulant." 

"  What 's  this  ?  "  asked  Sir  Samuel,  taking  up  one 
of  the  bottles. 


222         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTEE 

"Kaspberry  vinegar/'  said  Mr.  Pumpherston. 

"  What  can  that  do  for  us  ?  "  asked  Sir  Samuel. 

"  It  makes  me  sick,"  replied  Mr.  Pumpherston. 
"  But  what  choice  is  there  ?  There  's  apple  drink, 
gooseberry  water,  lemon  milk  —  they  're  all  pretty 
much  alike.  Do  you  know  the  '  Book  of  100  Aqueous 
Beverages '  ? " 

"  It 's  my  wife's  Bible,"  replied  Sir  Samuel. 

"  It 's  Mrs.  Mepham's  Catechism,"  said  Mr. 
Pumpherston. 

"  I  m  afraid,"  continued  Sir  Samuel,  "  that  the 
temperance  drinks  spoil  one  here,  you  know  "  (tap- 
ping his  stomach).  "  I  'm  saturated  with  them.  My 
wife's  great  favourite  is  cherry  water.  As  for  me,  I 
would  as  soon  drink  rain-water.  Well,  Pumpherston, 
we  've  made  a  good  many  speeches  together,  but  I  'm 
sick  of  being  shown  off  as  a  reformed  or  deformed 
drunkard." 

"  We  have  drunk  a  good  deal  of  lemonade  together, 
Sir  Samuel,"  observed  Mr.  Pumpherston. 

"  Fathoms !  "  said  Sir  Samuel,  taking  up  the  second 
bottle.  "What's  this?" 

"  That 's  whisky,"  replied  Mr.  Pumpherston. 

Sir  Samuel  started  back,  and  then  burst  out 
laughing. 

"I  am  feeling  very  unwell,"  said  Mr.  Pumpher- 
ston. "  I  have  my  doctor's  certificate.  It  is  he  who 
is  urging  me,  imploring  me.  I  almost  fainted  before 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         223 

you  came  in,  Sir  Samuel.  Don't  smile.  It  is  sober 
truth." 

"  Oh,  Pumpherston,"  cried  Sir  Samuel,  "  this  is 
good !  Sober  truth  's  all  very  well,  but  tipsy  truth 
is  even  more  amusing !  And  so  you  're  at  it 
again  ? " 

"  It  is  a  medicine,"  said  Mr.  Pumpherston,  finger- 
ing the  whisky  bottle.  "  I  hope  you  understand." 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  replied  Sir  Samuel,  with 
his  sides  shaking  and  his  head  and  hands  and 
everything  about  him  in  motion.  "  Look  at  me, 
Pumpherston." 

"  Yes,  Sir  Samuel,"  said  Mr.  Pumpherston,  look- 
ing at  him. 

"  Why,"  he  began,  "  I  confess  I  loved  the  bottle. 
I  was  besotted.  Rabelais  and  Omar,  these  were  my 
gods.  I  never  want  to  drink  so  deeply  again.  My 
poor  wife,  you  know !  But  she  's  in  the  wrong,  too. 
To  make  me  stop  all  in  a  sudden  is  more  than  a  man 
can  stand.  I  've  had  my  lapses.  I  don't  deny  it. 
But  as  for  fig  and  apple  drink,  or  currant  water, 
or  apricot  syrup,  or  syrup  of  lemons  all  day  and  every 
day,  why,  these  dreadful  compounds  are  killing  me ! 
That 's  why  my  head  moves  about  like  a  pendulum, 
and  I'm  more  like  a  jumping  jack  than  a  human 
being.  It 's  pure  weakness.  What  can  I  do  with 
orange  barley  water,  or  whatever  they  call  it  ?  Well, 
what 's  in  a  name  ?  Whisky  by  any  other  name 


224         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTEE 

tastes  as  well.  Call  it  a  medicine.  We  are  both  thor- 
oughly overworked.  That 's  the  truth." 

"  Well,  will  you  open  it  ? "  asked  Pumpherston, 
pushing  the  bottle  towards  Sir  Samuel. 

"  You  open  it,"  said  Sir  Samuel,  pushing  it  back. 

"  Is  it  not  the  case,"  demanded  Pumpherston, 
"  that  we  are  both  suffering  from  exhaustion  ?  " 

"  I  Ve  just  said  so.  I  entirely  agree  with  you. 
At  least,  I  know  how  I  feel,"  said  Sir  Samuel,  with 
a  gleam  beginning  to  arrive  in  his  eyes.  "  Where  did 
you  get  this  ?  " 

"  I  walked  to  Bayswater  and  brought  it  home  in 
my  umbrella,"  said  Mr.  Pumpherston.  "  I  have  al- 
ready said  that  I  took  the  precaution  of  getting  a 
doctor's  certificate." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha !  Excellent  idea !  "  exclaimed  Sir 
Samuel,  pushing  the  bottle  nearer  Mr.  Pumpherston, 
"  Home  in  an  umbrella !  You  're  a  genius.  Well  ?  " 

"  Is  the  door  locked  ? "  asked  Mr.  Pumpherston. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Sir  Samuel.     "  Begin." 

"  All  right.  But,  remember,  only  a  drop  each," 
said  Mr.  Pumpherston,  putting  in  the  corkscrew  and 
drawing.  "Even  although  my  committee  came  in 
this  moment,  I  could  look  them  straight  in  the  face." 

"  So  could  I,"  said  Sir  Samuel,  impatiently. 

"  Supposing  your  wife  and  my  sister  arrived,  I 
could  prove  that  I  am  justified.  My  doctor  says 
it,"  repeated  Mr.  Pumpherston. 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER         225 

"  But  they  won't  come,"  said  Sir  Samuel, 
drinking.  "  At  the  present  moment  they  are  ad- 
dressing the  temperance  meeting  in  Leeds,  and  de- 
livering your  message,  and  your  name  is  being 
cheered.  And  so,  tell  me  about  the  last  election 
you  fought  at  Old  Grange  "  —  helping  himself  from 
the  bottle  again.  "  I  hear  you  fell  in  love  with  the 
mayor's  daughter,  but  that  she  jilted  you  and  went 
over  to  Drury  and  the  Liquor  Party.  Is  it  true? 
Now,  what  happened  ?  " 

"  She  threw  back  at  me  the  bracelet  I  gave  her," 
said  Mr.  Pumpherston.  "  It  hit  me  in  the 
eye." 

"  I  made  a  rule  of  never  giving  to  women  any  solid 
objects,  anything  bulky  which  they  can  throw  back 
at  you  when  the  quarrel  begins,  but  only  such  things 
as  flowers,  and  sweets,  gloves  and  ribbons,  which 
perish  in  the  using.  And  so  your  opponent  flirted 
with  the  mayor's  daughter?  Ha,  ha.  .  .  .  This  is 
good  stuff  "  —  refilling  Mr.  Pumpherston's  glass  and 
his  own. 

"  Sir  Samuel ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pumpherston, 
drinking. 

"  He  was  seen  sitting  in  a  garden  with  his  arm 
round  the  jade's  waist  ?  Oh,  Pumpherston,  what  did 
you  say  ?  How  did  you  feel  ? "  asked  Sir  Samuel, 
laughing  heartily,  and  beginning  to  shows  signs  of 
undue  hilarity.  "  Such  an  experience,  Pumpherston, 


226         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

was  enough  to  drive  you  to  drink !  Now  that  we  Ve 
been  drinking  together,  I  may  as  well  tell  you  some- 
thing." 

"  I  Ve  not  been  drinking,"  said  Mr.  Pumpherston, 
corking  the  bottle.  "  I  Ve  been  taking  a  stimulant. 
Tea  would  do  as  well." 

"  Why  did  n't  you  take  it,  then  ?  "  asked  Sir  Sam- 
uel, jeering.  "  Anyway,  I  may  as  well  tell  you 
that  the  old  craving  came  on  me  to-day.  Half  an 
hour  ago  I  was  in  that  pub  round  the  corner.  Did  n't 
you  notice  me  reeling  a  bit.  But  nobody  saw  me  go 
in  —  a  side  street,  you  know.  What  a  comfort  a 
side  street  is,  Pumpherston !  " 

"  Half  an  hour  ago !  I  wish  you  had  told  me," 
said  Pumpherston. 

"  Wanted  to  come,  eh  ?  That 's  good,"  exclaimed 
Sir  Samuel,  rolling  from  side  to  side. 

"  No,"  said  Pumpherston,  putting  the  cork  more 
firmly  into  the  bottle.  "  You  misunderstand  me  — 
If  I  had  known  you  had  been  drinking  —  " 

"  Oh,  Tartuffe,  hypocrite,  Tartuffe  Pumpherston !  " 
said  Sir  Samuel.  "  Now,  if  any  man  says  I  'm 
drunk,  I  '11  call  him  a  liar !  Take  out  that  cork !  " 

"  I  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Mr.  Pum- 
pherston. "  I  see  the  mistake  I  have  made.  You 
are  becoming  hilarious,  Sir  Samuel  Epworth." 

"  Now,  don't  be  foolish,  Tartuffe !  Don't  call  me 
names !  You  're  a  hypocrite,  sir,  a  filthy  hypocrite, 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER         227 

and  you  're  frightened  for  your  sister,"  said  Sir 
Samuel,  in  great  excitement.  "  I  despise  you !  " 

"  You  're  frightened  for  your  wife,"  retorted  Mr. 
Pumpherston,  very  alarmed. 

"  Am  I  ?  Who  said  it  1  I  '11  brain  you  with  this 
bottle,  sirl  "  said  Sir  Samuel,  beginning  to  move  in 
Mr.  Pumpherston's  direction. 

"  Oh,  I  say !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pumpherston.  "  Does 
it  go  to  your  head  as  quickly  as  all  that?  Really, 
if  you  go  on  like  this,  I  '11  have  to  remove  you." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?    Remove  me  ?  " 

"  Supposing  anyone  came  in  ? "  urged  Mr.  Pum- 
pherston. 

"  Well,  supposing  they  did ;  what  of  that,  I  say  ?  " 

"  Well,  we  should  be  seriously  compromised.  My 
reputation!  Oh,  come,  come,  Sir  Samuel!  " 

"  Oh,  go,  go,  Mr.  Pumpherston !  Are  you  insult- 
ing me,  sir  ? " 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

"  You  propose  to  eject  me  from  this  meeting  ?  " 

"  He  thinks  he  's  at  a  meeting !  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Pumpherston,  in  an  aside.  "  Pardon  me." 

"That's  the  last  thing  I  will  do,"  said  Sir 
Samuel.  "  Who  drew  the  cork  first  ?  " 

"  We  have  been  imprudent,  Sir  Samuel.  I  feel 
slightly  giddy  myself,"  said  Mr.  Pumpherston. 

"  Who  drew  the  bottle  ?  "  demanded  Sir  Samuel. 

"  I  suppose  I  did." 


228         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

"  You  suppose.  Have  you  forgotten  ?  Sir,  you 
are  drunk,"  said  Sir  Samuel,  glaring  at  him. 

"  Dear  Sir  Samuel,  calm  yourself.  I  am  not  com- 
plaining," said  Mr.  Pumpherston. 

"  I  believe  that  you  have  a  mind  to  be  impertinent, 
sir!" 

"  I  beseech  you,  my  venerable  friend,  do  not  let 
us  drift  into  a  quarrel.  If  I  have  said  anything  to 
offend  you,  I  retract  it  instantly.  I  think  we  should 
both  go  quietly  to  bed.  I  will  see  you  to  your  room. 
That 's  all  I  meant." 

Anxious  to  get  rid  of  him  at  any  cost,  Mr.  Pum- 
pherston humbled  himself  sufficiently,  and  begged 
to  be  forgiven.  After  some  display  of  sullenness, 
and  many  minutes  of  silence,  Sir  Samuel  seemed  to 
be  appeased,  and  then,  with  a  return  of  good  humour, 
he  bade  his  host  good  night,  and  arrived  at  his  own 
quarters  without  mishap.  Next  day  he  appeared  to 
have  forgotten  the  incident,  or  to  be  ashamed  of  it, 
so  that  when  Lady  Epworth  and  Mrs.  Mepham  came 
back  from  Yorkshire,  all  traces  of  the  quarrel  had 
disappeared.  Both  women  were  full  of  news  regard- 
ing the  victorious  meetings  which  they  had  held  in 
the  enemy's  strongholds,  and  Sir  Samuel  and  Mr. 
Pumpherston  listened  attentively,  and  with  downcast 
eyes,  to  the  account  of  numerous  conversions.  It 
happened  to  be  the  evening  on  which  Mrs.-  Wix  was 
giving  the  dinner  in  honour  of  her  own  birthday, 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         229 

and  she  was  perfectly  aware  that  when  she  called 
for  wine  she  would  offend  Mrs.  Mepham. 

Mrs.  Mepham,  who  was  a  demure,  pale-faced 
widow,  with  an  angry  mouth  and  black,  glossy  hair, 
which  was  brushed  tightly  and  flatly  on  her  head,  and 
was  divided  by  a  parting  in  the  middle,  glanced 
contemptuously  at  the  flimsy  green  gown  in  which 
Mrs.  Wix  was  arrayed,  and  pronounced  the  words 
"gaudy  frump,"  which  caused  Lady  Epworth  to 
titter.  The  sole  reason  why  Mrs.  Mepham  and  her 
brother  remained  at  Wix's  Residential  Hotel  was  be- 
cause in  no  other  boarding  establishment  of  the  same 
class  were  they  able  to  find  a  telephone.  Now,  Mrs. 
Mepham  was  in  frequent  communication  with  her 
emissaries  in  the  Metropolis,  and  the  telephone  had 
become  a  necessity  for  her  and  her  brother  in  the 
work  of  propaganda.  By  making  use  of  the  instru- 
ment belonging  to  Mrs.  Wix  she  could  save  a  penny 
each  time,  because  at  the  public  telephone  the  charge 
was  twopence.  Moreover,  all  things  considered,  the 
disadvantages  of  residence  with  Mrs.  Wix  were  out- 
weighed by  the  advantages.  Of  course,  a  woman  like 
Mrs.  Mepham,  hard,  intolerant,  and  fanatical,  could 
feel  nothing  but  contempt  for  a  person  like  Mrs. 
Wix,  but  it  was  mixed  with  some  fear.  When  re- 
proached for  living  in  a  licensed  house,  Mrs.  Mepham 
pointed  out  that  she  and  Mr.  Pumpherston  desired 
to  convert  the  unconverted,  and  that,  therefore,  their 


230         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

post  of  duty,  like  an  advanced  guard,  lay  where 
drinkers  assembled.  The  truth  was,  however,  that 
spirituous  liquor  was  only  rarely  seen  at  Mrs.  Wix's 
table,  because  few  Wixians  could  afford  it.  Mrs. 
Mepham  was  thus  all  the  more  surprised  to  discover 
on  this  evening  of  her  return  from  a  victory  over  the 
enemy,  that  Mrs.  Wix,  at  her  own  expense  and  for 
the  pitiful  purpose  of  self-glorification,  was  actually 
providing  temptation  in  the  form  of  champagne !  At 
the  popping  of  the  corks,  Mrs.  Mepham  started  from 
her  chair,  while  Sir  Samuel  Epworth  and  Mr.  Pum- 
pherston  furtively  eyed  each  other. 

"  Ralph,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mepham,  addressing 
her  brother,  "  this  is  a  designed  insult  to  us.  Let  us 
rise." 

Ralph,  however,  was  hungry,  and  stuffed  veal  and 
peas  pudding  and  potatoes  were  being  handed  round. 
He  hurriedly  whispered  to  his  sister  that  she  must 
not  make  a  scene,  and  asked  if  she  and  Lady  Epworth 
were  not  very  famished  after  their  long  journey? 
Sir  Samuel  Epworth  appeared  likewise  determined 
not  to  miss  his  dinner.  He  clutched  his  knife  and 
fork. 

"  Fizz  or  no  fizz/'  he  said  bluntly,  with  a  revival 
of  his  ancient  courage,  "  I  won't  budge !  " 

"  They  are  both  hungry,"  said  Lady  Epworth  to 
Mrs.  Mepham.  "  We  had  better  remain." 

Mrs.  Mepham,  who  had  half  risen  from  her  chair, 


THE    OLD  DANCE   MASTER         231 

sat  down  again,  amid  the  smiles  of  Mr.  Snape  and 
Mr.  Coon,  and  reluctantly  agreed  to  see  the  meal 
to  a  finish.  As  for  Mrs.  Wix,  she  was  in  a  high- 
spirited,  reckless  mood,  and  felt  independent  of  the 
patronage  of  Mrs.  Mepham.  For  Sir  Samuel  she 
had  a  distinct  regard,  and  perhaps  it  was  out  of 
sympathy  for  him  that  she  sent  Wurm  with  the 
champagne  bottle  among  the  gloomy  group  of 
abstainers. 

"  No !  "  said  Lady  Epworth,  flattening  her  palm 
over  her  wine  glass  as  soon  as  Wurm  had  placed 
the  bottle  in  position.  "  Sir  Samuel  and  I  will  have 
cherry  water." 

Sir  Samuel  sighed,  and  looked  savagely  at  Mr. 
Pumpherston.  Mrs.  Mepham  had  already  turned  her 
own  glass  and  her  brother's  head  downwards,  and 
Wurm  passed  without  offering  a  drop. 

"  Mr.  Pumpherston  and  I,"  said  Mrs.  Mepham, 
in  a  loud  and  commanding  tone,  "will  have  filtered 
water.  And  see  that  it  is  filtered." 

"  That 's  a  treat  for  you !  "  whispered  Sir  Samuel 
to  Mr.  Pumpherston,  who  sat  silent. 

Meanwhile  Herr  Habenichts  was  in  a  very  genial 
mood.  Mr.  Botolph  looked  at  him  with  admiration, 
and  marvelled  at  his  quick  recovery  of  spirits.  But 
Herr  Habenichts  was  a  man  who  gave  himself  up 
to  the  enjoyment  of  the  moment,  and  said  that  care 
should  take  care  of  itself.  If  he  were  to  be  led  to 


232         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

execution  and  a  good  cigar  had  been  given  to  him  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  fatal  moment,  he  would 
smoke  it  tranquilly  to  the  end.  He  agreed  with 
Mrs.  Wix  that  Mrs.  Mepham  was  a  kill- joy,  and 
abhorred  her  frigidity,  and  he  had  never  been  able 
to  accustom  himself  to  the  forlornness  of  Lady  Ep- 
worth,  the  strange  silence  of  Mrs.  Coon,  who  sat  at 
table  without  ever  saying  a  word,  and  the  something 
repellent  in  Mr.  Pumpherston.  But  he  liked  Sir 
Samuel,  who,  with  all  his  oddities,  possessed  the  re- 
mains of  a  gay  countenance,  and  he  boldly  looked 
down  to  where  he  was  sitting,  and,  having  raised  his 
glass,  he  drank  with  a  twinkling  eye  to  the  health 
of  the  old  dilapidated  knight.  Sir  Samuel,  with 
a  pathetic  nod,  returned  the  compliment  in  cherry 
water.  Herr  Habenichts  then  nudged  Mr.  Botolph, 
who  sat  with  a  pleased  smile  on  his  face,  and  he 
whispered  — 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Botolph,  I  drink  to  the  safety  of  your 
boy!" 

Mr.  Botolph  thanked  him,  and  looked  radiant, 
and  said  he  was  certain  that  his  son  would  return 
in  the  spring.  Herr  Habenichts  now  began  to  feel 
ashamed  for  what  he  had  said  about  Mrs.  Wix,  who 
was  providing  such  excellent  fare,  and  he  asked 
Mr.  Botolph  to  forget  it.  Mrs.  Wix,  in  fact,  was 
paying  great  attention  to  Herr  Habenichts,  for  she 
had  begun  to  think  that  he  was  making  money  and 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         233 

was  becoming  a  person  of  importance.  The  fact 
that  Sir  John  Marduke  was  the  patron  of  the  Original 
Jellini  Academy  of  Dancing  very  greatly  impressed 
her,  and  she  had  heard  of  the  distinguished  persons, 
including  two  mayors,  who  had  witnessed  the  pupils' 
ball.  On  the  actual  evening  which  had  brought  the 
disastrous  news  of  the  withdrawal  of  Sir  John  Mar- 
duke's  patronage,  Herr  Habenichts  was  pained  to  re- 
ceive Mrs.  Wix's  congratulations  on  the  enjoyment 
of  the  friendship  and  protection  of  such  an  impor- 
tant gentleman, 

"  It 's  just  a  piece  of  out  and  out  luck,"  she  said. 
"  You  're  a  rich  man  already.  To  be  sure  you  are." 

"  Nein,  Mrs.  Vix,"  replied  Herr  Habenichts.  "  I 
not  rich!  De  life  is  hard,  and  vollish.  At  my  age 
see  me  dance  de  polka,  very  vollish!  I  lose  time. 
I  vish  to  read  and  study.  But  I  teach  de  dance  to 
get  bread.  Dat's  all." 

Mrs.  Wix  would  not  hear  a  word  of  it.  She  had 
begun  to  suspect  that,  owing  to  the  supposed  im- 
provement in  his  circumstances,  Herr  Habenichts 
might  forsake  her  hotel,  and  move  to  more  luxurious 
quarters.  She  said  that  "  good  fortin'  's  a  fine  thing," 
asked  him  if  he  was  comfortable,  and  offered  him  a 
better  room. 

"  Jellini's  is  quite  a  name,"  she  continued,  "  and 
I  hope  as  you  '11  teach  Polly  to  dance.  Sir  John 
Marduke 's  a  millionaire,  and  you  're  in  his  will. 


234         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

There  's  no  doubt  about  it.  He  has  taken  a  fancy 
to  you." 

A  momentary  cloud  or  cloudlet  seemed  to  pass 
across  Herr  Habenichts'  face,  and  Mr.  Botolph 
thought  he  heard  a  faint  sigh.  Herr  Habenichts 
shook  his  head,  and  said  that  Mrs.  Wix  was  imagin- 
ing things.  But  she  shook  her  head,  too,  put  her 
hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  asked  him  if  he  would 
be  ashamed  to  ask  Sir  John  to  such  a  dinner.  While 
he  was  saying  that  he  would  not,  Mr.  Botolph  took 
the  opportunity  of  whispering  to  him  — 

"  The  wine  is  mounting  in  her !  " 

Mrs.  Wix,  however,  seemed  determined  to  over- 
load Herr  Habenichts  with  her  attentions. 

"  Now,  have  a  plummier  bit  of  that  there  beef," 
she  said.  "These  baked  taters?  Some  gravy  and 
a  little  of  the  fat  ?  Oh,  here  's  a  dollop  of  Yorkshire 
puddin',  and  don't  forget  to  empty  your  glass." 

"  I  empty  it  to  you,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  raising 
his  glass,  and  overwhelming  Mrs.  Wix  with  his  courtly 
airs. 

"  Wix  and  me  used  to  say,"  continued  Mrs.  Wix, 
"  that  after  we  had  made  our  pile  we  'd  do  the 
thing  swell.  As  it  is,  we  don't  weave  cotton  and 
call  it  silk.  We  don't  grind  rice  in  the  coffee  and 
save  up  old  tea  leaves  to  use  over  again.  It  ain't 
here  you  '11  feed  on  tripe  and  cow  heel  and  pigs' 
trotters.  You  men  knows  nothin'  about  housekeepin' 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER         235 

and  the  valer  of  money.  Now  that  roast  beef  you  're 
eatin'  and  evidently  enjoyin'.  Ain't  it  prime?  I 
got  that  in  Camden  Town,  and  don't  say  to  me  that 
it  was  a  block  ornament,  or  one  of  them  remnants 
and  rags  of  beef  they  sticks  in  the  winder  for  Sat'r- 
day  nights.  I  bought  it  myself  on  Tuesday,  and 
bargained  no  end.  Keepin'  a  hotel  is  just  house- 
keepin'  on  a  biggish  scale.  That 's  what  I  tells  Polly. 
I  give  valer  for  money.  That 's  judge  and  justice. 
Fight  in'  the  cook  and  the  servants  and  them  boarders 
as  says  they  '11  pay  you  like  a  bank  and  does  n't, 
and  then  facin'  the  taxes  and  the  bills  and  the 
broken  crockery.  Why,  it 's  a  life !  P'r'aps  'casion- 
ally  I  talks  up  a  bit  loud  and  lusty  like.  But  it 's 
just  like  Big  Ben.  He  's  got  to  talk  out  if  he 's 
goin'  to  be  heard  a  mile  away,  and  so  they  gives 
him  a  loud  tongue." 

Hereupon  Mrs.  Wix  observed  that  Lady  Epworth 
and  Mrs.  Mepham  ware  tittering  at  her,  but  she 
transfixed  them  with  one  of  her  sharp  glances,  and 
then  called  for  more  wine. 

"  Wine  bibbers !  "  remarked  Mrs.  Mepham,  some- 
what uncourageously,  in  a  whisper. 

"  They  drink  like  fish,"  said  Lady  Epworth. 

"  Fish,  poor  things,  drink  only  water,"  replied  Sir 
Samuel,  winking  at  Mr.  Pumpherston. 

"  Then  I  wish  people  would  drink  like  fish,"  re- 
torted Mrs.  Mepham,  raising  her  nose  and  looking 


236         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

defiant.  "  Ralph,  why  don't  you  say  something  ? 
Keep  the  flag  flying  even  in  the  enemy's  camp." 

"  Why,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs.  Wix,  addressing  Mrs. 
Mepham,  "  I  've  never  seen  you  smile,  and  you  're 
as  mournful  as  the  muffin-bell." 

"  These  wet  goods,"  said  Mr.  Pumpherston,  com- 
ing to  his  sister's  rescue,  "  could  be  dispensed  with, 
Mrs.  Wix." 

"  Tartuffe !  hypocrite !  "  exclaimed  Sir  Samuel 
Epworth,  kicking  Pumpherston  in  the  ankle.  "  I  '11 
expose  you !  " 

"  You  don't  take  this  house  for  a  wobble  shop  ?  " 
inquired  Mrs.  Wix,  indignantly,  amid  the  growing 
excitement. 

"  Wobble  shop,"  repeated  Mr.  Coon.  "  That  yanks 
the  bun." 

"  Don't  offend  anyone,"  whispered  Mrs.  Coon  to 
her  husband.  "  Take  no  part  in  the  discussion,  and 
don't  drink." 

"  I  would  n't  say,"  remarked  Mr.  Snape,  the  den- 
tist, "  that  a  man  should  float  his  teeth,  but  I  do 
believe  that  it 's  good  now  and  again  to  wash  the 
ivories  with  wine." 

"  Vat  did  Mr.  Pumpherston  mean  by  vet  goods  ?  " 
asked  Herr  Habenichts. 

"  Slang  for  liquor,"  replied  Mr.  Coon. 

"  Den,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  "  de  vet  goods  im- 
prove some  people's  dry  conversation." 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER         237 

The  drinkers  now  laughed  at  the  abstainers,  while 
Mrs.  Mepham  urged  her  brother  to  attempt  to  reply. 

"  You  will  admit,"  began  Pumpherston,  "  that 
even  professional  thieves  are  generally  sober  men. 
To  do  their  work  they  require  to  keep  their  wits 
clear." 

"  Vat  a  reason  for  being  a  teetotaller !  "  exclaimed 
Herr  Habenichts ;  and  they  all  began  laughing  again. 

Mr.  Pumpherston  lost  countenance,  and  kept  his 
eyes  on  the  table-cloth,  while  his  sister  told  him 
that  he  had  made  a  fool  of  himself,  and  that  if  he 
could  n't  defend  the  cause  in  any  better  manner, 
he  should  henceforth  hold  his  tongue. 

Herr  Habenichts  then  began  to  explain  to  all 
present  the  myth  of  Dionysus,  and  when  he  spoke 
of  the  origin  of  the  vine  worship,  he  quoted  five 
lines  from  Euripides  in  the  original  Greek. 

"  Don't  talk  German,"  said  Mrs.  Wix. 

Mr.  Coon  and  Mr.  Snape,  who  likewise  thought 
that  Herr  Habenichts  was  talking  German,  said  al- 
most simultaneously,  "  Quite  right,  ma'am ;  "  but 
when  they  found  their  mistake,  they  both  looked 
foolish.  For  Herr  Habenichts  and  Mr.  Botolph  were 
busy  laughing. 

Mr.  Coon  closed  his  eyes.  He  was  a  little  man 
with  a  narrow  forehead  and  black,  close-cropped  hair. 
His  face  was  deeply  pitted  by  small-pox,  and  he 
wore  pince-nez.  His  speciality  in  journalism  con- 


238         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

sisted  of  the  obituary  notices  of  eminent  persons, 
but  during  the  last  year  he  had  been  heard  to  com- 
plain of  the  scarcity  of  deaths  among  the  great. 
He  possessed  a  series  of  biographies  in  manuscript, 
which  he  was  continually  bringing  up  to  date  in  case 
any  of  his  victims  might  suddenly  die.  Since  his 
style  was  often  caustic  he  called  himself  the  grave- 
digger  of  reputations. 

"  And  vat/'  asked  Herr  Habenichts,  "  is  your  next 
obituary  notice  to  be  about  ?  " 

"  Free  Trade,"  said  Sir  Samuel  Epworth  in  a  loud 
voice  at  the  other  end  of  the  table. 

Hereupon  there  took  place  a  most  violent  dis- 
cussion on  the  subject  of  Free  Trade  and  Protection, 
in  the  course  of  which  Mr.  Pumpherston  declared 
himself  an  unrepentant  Free  Trader,  and  was  again 
kicked  in  the  ankle  by  Sir  Samuel  Epworth.  The 
debate  was  becoming  very  animated,  while  Mrs.  Coon 
kept  whispering  to  her  husband,  "  Take  no  part. 
Don't  quarrel  with  anyone."  Lady  Epworth  informed 
Mrs.  Mepham,  who  was  also  a  Free  Trader,  that  she 
did  not  know  what  she  was  taking  about,  and  that 
on  this  subject  they  must  part  company.  Sir  Samuel 
was  delighted,  and  kept  repeating,  as  he  shook  in 
his  chair,  "The  fat's  in  the  fire!"  The  battle, 
indeed,  had  spread  to  the  other  two  tables,  and 
soon  the  room  was  in  an  uproar.  Mrs  Wix,  who 
was  too  confused  to  be  able  to  contribute  anything 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER    239 

coherent  to  the  debate,  called  out  from  her 
place — 

"  I  like  animals  as  is  civil ! " 

"  And  //'  cried  Mrs.  Mepham,  as  she  lifted  a  ba- 
nana and  smelt  it,  "prefer  free  traders  to  foul  ones." 

"  Take  my  word,  it 's  a  good  banana.  What  are 
you  smelling  it  for  ?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Wix.  "  Some 
folks  are  like  horses.  They  must  touch  everythin' 
with  their  noses.  And  most  folks  seem  to  think  a 
bill  of  fare  's  a  bill  of  ladin'." 

There  was  a  sudden  silence,  and  Sir  Samuel  Ep- 
worth  was  stopped  in  the  development  of  an  impor- 
tant argument.  He  had  had  high  words  with  Mr. 
Pumpherston  who  stated  with  some  indignation  that 
so  far  at  least  -as  his  ankle  was  concerned,  he  was 
already  convinced  of  the  need  of  Protection.  But 
Mrs.  Wix's  last  jibe  created  an  awkward  pause,  and 
her  reference  to  bills  of  lading  was  resented  by  the 
entire  company.  At  this  juncture  Wurm  entered  to 
inform  Herr  Habenichts  that  a  young  gentleman 
of  the  name  of  Marduke  was  in  the  parlour.  Herr 
Habenichts  promptly  rose,  and  we  will  follow  him. 
He  excused  himself  to  the  heated  debaters  while 
Mrs.  Wix  beamed  upon  him,  and  exclaimed  — 

"  Mr.  Marduke !  Oh,  I  say !  That 's  the  baronet's 
son.  Offer  him  anything  he  wishes,  and  I  would 
like  to  see  him." 


CHAPTER   FIFTEENTH 

HERB  HABEETICHTS  entered  the  room  in  a  haughty 
fashion.  He  advanced,  bowing  disdainfully  and  but- 
toning his  frock-coat,  and  his  demeanour  bewildered 
Monty  Marduke,  who  was  standing  with  his  back 
to  the  fire.  But  Marduke  was  likewise  in  a  strange 
mood.  His  eyes  had  an  expression  of  trouble  and 
unrest,  his  face  was  pale,  and  his  brows  were  con- 
tracted as  if  in  sign  of  some  great  catastrophe  of 
love  and  youth.  He  was  startled  by  the  peculiar 
behaviour  of  Herr  Habenichts,  who  stood  stock  still 
under  the  incandescent  gas  bracket,  where  his  bald 
head  began  to  shine.  The  old  dance  master  was 
apparently  trying  to  control  some  excitement.  His 
lips  were  tight,  he  breathed  heavily,  and  he  eyed  the 
youth  suspiciously,  almost  savagely. 

"  Why,  what 's  wrong  with  you,  Herr  Habe- 
nichts ? "  asked  Monty,  going  forward  and  holding 
ont  his  hand. 

"  Oh,  I  vill  pay  it  all"  replied  Herr  Habenichts, 
scornfully  — "  everyting,  and  glad  every  penny  to 
pay,  even  although  it  leave  me  vith  noting.  I  sup- 
pose you  tink  I  run  avay  ?  " 

240 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         241 

Hereupon,  having  unbuttoned  his  frock-coat  he 
pulled  out  first  the  letter  which  he  had  received  from 
Messrs.  Jedder  and  Jedder,  the  baronet's  solicitors, 
and  second,  the  letter  which  he  had  received  from 
Mr.  Samuel  Larkin,  and  he  shook  them  violently  in 
Mr.  Monty  Marduke's  face. 

"  To-morrow,"  he  continued  in  an  excited  voice, 
"  I  go  to  the  pank,  proud  to  go  and  pay  every  penny. 
Empty  pocket  again!  Mein  Gott!  I  begin  to  say 
I  come  to  de  wrong  countree.  Dat  Dorrie  and  you 
haf  both  done  it  to  me." 

Herr  Habenichts'  face  was  now  very  red  and  his 
eyes  were  enlarged  and  fiery. 

"  I  don't  understand  a  word  of  what  you  are 
saying,"  Monty  replied.  "  What  is  it  all  about  ? 
I  've  just  come  from  Jellini's,  where  I  expected  to 
see  you,  since  I  thought  this  was  one  of  your  even- 
ings. I  have  something  to  tell  you,  Herr  Habe- 
nichts. Most  important!  " 

"  Vat !  "  exclaimed  Herr  Habenichts.  "  You  not 
know?  Is  dat  de  troot?  It  is  nonsense  to  say  so. 
You  not  know  dat  your  fader,  de  patron,  haf  for- 
sook me,  and  ask  back  de  loan,  de  money,  all  becose 
of  de  goings  on  of  you  and  Dorrie  ?  " 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  said  Marduke,  "  noth- 
ing whatever." 

"How?" 

"  I  say  I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about," 
repeated  Marduke. 


242         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

"  And  de  cab  gentleman,  Mr.  Larkin.  .  .  .  Oh, 
wat  impudence  to  speak  about  me  as  lie  do  in  his 
letter !  "  said  Herr  Habenichts,  suddenly  taking  ref- 
uge in  his  own  language  and  beginning  to  pour 
forth  a  torrent  of  words  which  Marduke  did  not 
understand.  "  I  vill  demand  an  apology.  Yes,  I 
vill !  "  he  continued,  and  then  after  he  had  shaken 
both  letters  as  dogs  shake  rats,  he  handed  them  over 
in  a  crumpled  condition  to  Mr.  Monty  Marduke. 

While  Monty  was  studying  them  Herr  Habenichts 
walked  round  the  room  humming  a  martial  and  de- 
fiant air,  and  now  and  again  throwing  back  his 
shoulders  and  keping  his  head  erect  as  if  he  were 
marching  to  battle.  As  he  turned  he  was  surprised 
to  see  Mrs.  Wix's  face  looking  in  at  the  door.  Al- 
though Mrs.  Wix  had  ordered  everyone  in  the  house 
not  to  disturb  Herr  Habenichts  and  his  distinguished 
guest,  and  to  consider  that  parlour  as  a  private  room 
for  the  evening,  she  found  it  impossible  to  restrain 
her  own  curiosity. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  pardon,"  she  said,  while  her  face  was 
still  crimson  with  the  champagne.  "  Just  looked  in 
to  see  if  anything  was  wanted.  That 's  my  way.  I 
like  gentlemen  to  get  attention.  Enough  lights  ? 
Oh,  my  goodness,  the  curtains  ain't  drawn  "  (and  in 
a  flick  the  curtain  rings  were  rattling  along  the 
poles).  "The  fire  good?  I  never  grudge  coals  to 
gentlemen  on  a  Jan'ary  night.  Well,  now,  perhaps 
Mr.  Marduke  would  like  something  ? " 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER    243 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,"  said  Marduke ;  while  Herr 
Habenichts  smiled  to  Mrs.  Wix,  who  then  reluctantly 
disappeared. 

During  the  very  important  conversation  which 
now  began  between  Monty  and  Herr  Habenichts  they 
were  frequently  disturbed  by  one  head  after  another 
bobbing  in  and  begging  pardon.  Mrs.  Mepham  en- 
tered to  say,  "  Oh,  I  thought  Mr.  Pumpherston  was 
here,"  although  she  had  left  him  in  the  lobby.  Then 
came  Mrs.  Coon  with  "  Where  is  Mr.  Coon  ? "  al- 
though she  knew  perfectly  well  that  he  was  still 
lingering  at  table  and  cracking  bad  jokes  and  walnuts. 
Mr.  Snape  arrived  on  the  pretence  of  looking  for 
matches,  although  he  had  a  box  full  in  his  pocket, 
and  he  took  ten  minutes  to  prepare  his  pipe  and 
to  light  it.  Even  Sir  Samuel  Epworth  was  incapable 
of  resisting  the  temptation  when  it  became  known 
that  Sir  John  Marduke's  son  was  in  the  house.  For 
Sir  John  had  been  at  school  with  Sir  Samuel,  who, 
however,  as  soon  as  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  Monty, 
retreated  with  apologies.  Polly  Wix  likewise  paid 
a  visit  ostensibly  to  poke  the  fire,  which  needed  no 
poking  at  all.  As  she  swept  the  hearth,  however, 
she  had  an  excellent  view  of  Mr.  Marduke's  boots, 
which  she  afterwards  declared  to  be  the  loveliest 
boots  she  had  ever  seen  on  a  gentleman's  feet. 
Only  Mr.  Botolph  respected  Herr  Habenichts'  pri- 
vacy, and  spent  a  formidable  evening  in  listening 


244         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

to  Mrs.  Mepham's  and  Lady  Epworth's  opinions  on; 
temperance. 

Monty  expressed  astonishment  at  the  contents  of 
the  letters,  then  sympathy  with  Herr  Habenichts,  and 
then  great  disgust  with  the  action  of  his  father,  who, 
he  declared,  was  becoming  more  and  more  incom- 
prehensible to  him.  Herr  Habenichts  replied  that 
he  did  not  desire  sympathy  and  that  Sir  John  Mar- 
duke  had  doubtless  a  perfect  right  to  do  what  he  liked 
in  the  matter.  He  repeated  that  he  had  determined 
to  restore  the  money  immediately  and  to  close  for 
ever  the  Original  Jellini  Academy  of  Dancing.  But 
he  was  much  surprised  when  he  heard  Monty  state 
in  tones  of  obvious  sincerity  that  if  it  were  not 
that  he,  too,  at  that  moment  happened  to  be  short 
of  cash,  he  would  be  delighted  to  come  to  Herr  Habe- 
nichts' assistance.  At  first  the  old  dance  master 
listened  incredulously  and  derisively. 

"  Very  leetle  money !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Ja,  I 
believe  you !  " 

"  Yes,  Herr  Habenichts,"  continued  Monty.  "  You 
laugh,  but  it  is  true.  I  am  in  debt.  Three  or  four 
years  ago  I  was  an  ass,  kept  a  racing  stud,  and  lost 
heavily.  The  allowance  which  my  father  gives  me 
pays  the  interest  on  loans,  and  leaves  me  just  some- 
thing to  get  along  with.  And  now  my  father 
threatens  to  stop  the  allowance.  Our  family  affairs 
are  in  a  very  unsatisfactory  state.  My  father  has 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTEK    245 

given  so  much  away  that  we  are  becoming  alarmed, 
not  only  about  our  own  position  in  the  world,  but 
about  his  sanity.  If  it  were  possible  I  would  sell 
the  six  valuable  pictures  which  my  mother  left  me, 
and  lend  you  some  of  the  proceeds,  because  I  can 
never  forget  that  it  was  through  you  that  I  met  that 
lovely  girl  —  " 

"  Don't  mention  her  name,"  interrupted  Herr 
Habenichts,  sternly. 

"  I  say,  I  would  like  to  help  you  —  " 

"  I  don't  vish  it,"  said  Herr  Habenichts. 

"  But  my  father  has  the  use  of  those  pictures 
during  his  life,"  continued  Monty,  as  he  plumped 
into  a  seat  "  Well,  there  's  my  bay  mare  —  " 

Herr  Habenichts  took  a  chair,  drew  it  near  to 
Monty's,  and  looked  earnestly  at  the  young  man. 

"  Mein  Gott !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  is  it  possible  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  tell  me  first,  where  's  Dorrie  ? "  asked 
Monty,  eagerly.  "  I  '11  help  you  as  soon  as  I 
can." 

"  Nein,"  said  Herr  Habenichts.  "  De  tance  is 
over,  and  I  out  in  de  vorld  again." 

"  I  've  got  the  most  extraordinary  thing  to  tell 
you,  Herr  Habenichts,"  Monty  began  again  as  he 
took  a  cigarette  from  his  gold  cigarette  case ;  "  and 
this  letter  of  Larkin  has  considerably  added  to  my 
fears  for  that  lovely  girl.  I  've  got  news  for  you !  " 

"  Vat  ?  "  asked  Herr  Habenichts.     "  Ja,  news  of 


246         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

pretty  face.  Dat's  all  de  news  a  young  man  care 
for.  She  ruin  us  both !  " 

"  I  went  to  Jellini's  to-night  expecting  to  find 
her  and  you,  Herr  Habenichts,"  said  Monty,  in  great 
excitement.  "  I  'm  going  to  elope  with  her.  It 's 
the  only  way.  You  must  help  us.  She  's  in  the 
greatest  danger!  This  letter  proves  it.  Larkin, 
you  know,  is  not  her  father.  He  has  no  rights  over 
her  whatever." 

"  I  not  onderstand,"  murmured  Herr  Habenichts. 

"  She  's  the  niece  of  the  Duchess  Dowager  of  Berk- 
shire," said  Monty.  "  Larkin 's  only  her  stepfather. 
Her  mother  died  long  ago." 

Herr  Habenichts  gave  expression  to  his  amazement 
by  seizing  the  poker  and  splitting  a  block  of  coal. 
Then  with  many  appropriate  exclamations  in  his  own 
language  he  drew  his  chair  still  nearer  to  Monty, 
and  told  him  to  go  on  without  delay. 

Monty  could  only  repeat  what  he  had  already  said, 
but  he  now  seemed  to  be  working  himself  into  a 
fury  at  the  thought  that  Dorothy  might  be  suddenly 
removed  from  London. 

"  I  want  you  to  spy  on  that  yard,  Herr  Habe- 
nichts," he  continued.  "  I  '11  consult  a  lawyer.  Lar- 
kin has  no  power  over  that  lovely  girl.  As  for  writing 
letters  to  her,  she  would  never  get  them.  No,  I'll 
act.  I  '11  act." 

He  rose. 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         247 

"  Sit  down,"  implored  Heir  Habenichts,  pushing 
him  into  the  chair  again.  "  Was  f  iir  eine  Geschichte  1 
Tell  me  all." 

Herr  Habenichts  was  so  eager  to  hear  every  de- 
tail that  he  soon  forgot  his  own  distresses,  and  he 
sat  listening  as  a  child  listens  to  a  fairy  tale.  When 
Monty  described  his  interview,  first  with  Mrs.  Bleeks 
and  then  with  Larkin  and  the  revelations  made  con- 
cerning Dorothy's  parentage,  the  listener's  excitement 
increased.  For  Herr  Habenichts  buttoned  and  un- 
buttoned his  frock-coat  twenty  times,  smiled  and 
frowned  by  turns,  slapped  his  knee  and  flung  his 
half-smoked  cigar  into  the  blazing  fire.  Monty  was 
scarcely  able  to  proceed  owing  to  the  frequent  in- 
terruptions and  interjections  in  German,  and  at 
last  Herr  Habenichts  seized  him  by  the  arm,  shook 
it,  and  said,  "  Ach,  die  Liebe !  "  The  old  man's 
interest  was  still  more  quickened  when  Monty  de- 
scribed Arabella,  Duchess  of  Berkshire,  and  her  in- 
human coldness  and  her  refusal  to  befriend  the  hap- 
less girl.  Herr  Habenichts  shook  his  head,  leaned 
back  in  his  chair,  gesticulated  with  his  two  hands, 
and  exclaimed,  "  A  vicked  ancient  lady :  eine  bose 
Frau !  "  He  asked  for  a  minute  description  of  her, 
where  she  lived,  how  rich  she  was,  how  old  she  was, 
and  he  put  fifty  other  questions.  Once  more  Monty 
was  required .  to  recapitulate  the  story,  and  when 
he  told  of  Larkin's  discomfiture,  Mrs.  Bleeks's  rage 


248         THE    OLD    DAKCE    MASTER 

and  the  dowager's  fury,  Herr  Habenichts  clapped 
his  hands.  The  electric  batteries  of  his  own  mem- 
ories were  being  stirred. 

"  Ja,"  he  began,  "  it  all  remind  me  of  my  Vi- 
ennese tancer  ven  I  vos  a  gay  hussar.  Ah,  long  ago, 
long  ago.  And  she  made  me  soffer !  A  tancer,  Tan- 
zerin,  like  Dorrie.  She  change  my  life.  She  vould 
not  haf  me !  I  vollowed  her  over  de  Simmering  into 
Tyrol,  into  Germany,  avay  into  Vrance,  and  Italy, 
Algiers  and  Athens,  avay,  avay,  tancing,  tancing.  All 
over  de  vorld  did  I  vatch  her  in  de  theatres,  ah, 
long  ago !  She  vould  not  haf  me.  I  almost  shot  my- 
self:  I  vept,  I  vept.  And  ven  I  lost  her  I  thought 
to  write  my  book  on  de  Tance,  for  I  saw  her  as  Terp- 
sichore tancing  through  the  ages!  Dat  vos  my  con- 
solation. To  write  de  book,  I  rose  in  de  mornings 
and  saw  her  tancing,  tancing  in  de  dawn!  Ja,  my 
thought  became  like  a  tancer.  Star  of  love,  morning 
and  evening  star !  Ach,  how  vondervoll  and  glorious 
life  is!" 

Herr  Habenichts  stopped,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  be 
searching  far  horizons  while  Monty  sat  wondering  at 
his  rapture.  Then  they  talked  and  talked,  and  Monty 
said  a  hundred  times  that  he  would  marry  his  dan- 
cer, and  he  again  demanded  Herr  Habenichts  help. 

"  Veil  ?  Vat  can  I  do  V '  asked  Herr  Habenichts, 
with  his  old  benignity.  "  It  is  a  vondervoll  love. 
Elope  ?  Ah,  mein  Gott,  look !  listen !  " 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER         249 

He  pointed  suddenly  to  the  clock,  which  marked 
half -past  twelve,  and  simultaneously  a  key  was  heard 
being  turned  in  the  front  door.  All  good  Wixians 
save  one  had  gone  to  bed  and  were  asleep  and  dream- 
ing, little  knowing  that  young  Romance  was  in  the 
house. 

"  Here  comes  Svevling,"  whispered  Herr  Habe- 
nichts  in  terror.  "  I  vorget  him !  I  put  out  de  gas. 
He  think  no  one  here." 

Before  Marduke  could  prevent  him  Herr  Habe- 
nichts  turned  out  the  gas  so  that  the  room  was  lit 
only  by  the  fire  glow.  Now  it  was  Swefling's  habit 
to  enter  the  parlour  every  night  in  expectation  of 
seeing  Herr  Habenichts  and  Mr.  Botolph.  When 
he  opened  the  door  he  found  the  room  in  darkness 
except  for  the  red  warm  shimmer  of  the  dying  fire. 
There  was  light  enough,  however,  to  enable  him  to 
distinguish  figures  in  the  room,  and  he  saw  two  heads 
and  two  pairs  of  legs. 

"Hullo!"  he  cried,  "who's  here?" 

Monty  was  about  to  strike  a  light  because  he  had 
no  intention  of  hiding. 

Swefling  saw  the  gleam  of  a  small  gold  box,  and 
presently,  by  the  flame  of  the  wax  match,  he  rec- 
ognised Marduke's  features.  As  the  incandescent 
bracket  became  relighted  Heir  Habenichts  said  — 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Svevling,  I  am  here,  too !  " 
Swefling,    however,   made   no    response,    but   looked 


250         THE    OLD   DAtfCE    MASTER 

in  a  sullen  and  suspicious  manner  from  the  one  to 
the  other,  while  Marduke  smoked  a  cigarette. 

"  Mr.  Svevling,"  exclaimed  Herr  Habenichts,  "you 
look  like  a  morderer !  " 

Swefling  only  grinned  in  silence,  and  outstared 
Marduke.  The  fellow  looked  so  menacing,  so  trucu- 
lent that  Herr  Habenichts  expected  a  fight  to  begin 
immediately,  and  he  glanced  in  an  anxious  manner 
at  Marduke,  who,  however,  remained  perfectly  calm. 
Meantime  Swefling  continued  his  insolent  survey  of 
Marduke,  as  if  he  were  taking  his  measure  of  him. 
Then,  without  a  word,  but  with  a  loud  laugh  which 
went  rolling  and  echoing  up  the  staircase,  and  made 
some  of  the  inmates  turn  in  their  sleep,  he  left  the 
room.  He  had  reasons  for  his  self-control.  Some- 
thing had  happened  in  Larkin's  yard. 


CHAPTER   SIXTEENTH 

WHEN  Larkin  had  made  a  resolution  he  seldom  failed 
to  carry  it  out.  Therefore  it  was  in  consternation 
and  in  terror  that  Dorothy  heard  from  his  own  lips 
that  she  was  to  marry  Swefling.  Sam  suspected 
that  Swefling  was  in  love  with  her,  and,  indeed,  his 
sisters  had  warned  him  long  ago.  And,  after  all, 
was  Swefling  to  be  despised  ?  He  was  a  very  steady 
young  fellow,  and  he  would  carry  on  the  business, 
or  perhaps  manage  the  farm.  In  his  utter  disbelief 
in  Marduke's  honourable  intentions  Larkin  decided 
to  save  his  step-daughter  from  ruin  without  delay.  He 
had  an  affection  for  Dorothy,  to  whom  he  meant  to 
leave  his  small  fortune,  but  he  still  dreaded  the  day 
when  she  would  discover  that  she  was  unrelated  to 
him.  The  sudden  apparition  of  Marduke  caused 
Larkin  to  decide  to  make  use  at  once  of  any  authority 
which  might  remain  to  him.  On  the  same  night,  there- 
fore, on  which  Marduke  went  to  visit  Heir  Habe- 
nichts  at  Mrs.  Wix's,  Larkin  ordered  Swefling  to  come 
back  to  the  yard  about  half-past  ten.  When  Audacity 

251 


252         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

trotted  into  the  stables  Larkin  was  standing  impa- 
tiently on  his  doorstep. 

"You  just  come  in,"  he  said;  "Vardy'll  see  all 
tight  I  Ve  somethin'  to  say  to  you." 

Herr  Habeniehts,  when  he  saw  that  look  of  anger 
and  hate  in  Swefling's  face,  had  said  that  it  was  the 
glance  of  a  murderer.  It  was  a  strong  statement, 
and  perhaps  overstrong,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  during  the  last  ten  days  or  so  a  deep  and  extra- 
ordinary change  had  taken  place  in  Swelling.  Ever 
since  that  night  when  he  had  driven  Dorothy  and 
Marduke  in  his  cab  from  the  Original  Jellini  Acad- 
emy of  Dancing,  Swelling  had  suffered  from  alterna- 
tions of  despondency  and  rage.  In  his  sleep  and  in 
his  sleeplessness  he  was  troubled  by  strange  and  ter- 
rible suggestions.  What  is  this  phantom  that  whis- 
pers and  whispers,  Kill  Marduke!  Swefling  rose  in 
horror,  took  charge  of  his  cab  in  the  morning,  and 
drove  through  London,  oblivious  of  the  beckonings 
from  the  pavement,  full  only  of  one  thought  and 
trying  hard  to  get  rid  of  it.  Primitive  instinct,  the 
instinct  that  makes  us  in  a  crisis  seize  and  clutch  and 
crush,  which  makes  us  use  our  bodily  powers  as  the 
tiger  and  the  jackal  use  theirs,  the  instinct  to  capture 
the  beloved  object  by  force  and  fight,  was  furiously 
astir  in  this  obscure  London  Jehu.  He  had  been 
diligently  saving  money  for  years  for  her.  It  was 
in  order  to  impress  mankind  in  general,  and  Dorothy 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         253 

and  Larkin  in  particular,  that  he  had  taken  a  lodg- 
ing at  Wix's  Residential  Hotel,  thus  to  prove  that  he 
was  in  the  way  of  prosperity.  Moreover,  he  had 
been  bequeathed  four  hundred  pounds  by  an  uncle, 
and  therefore  he  had  supposed  that  if  he  presented 
himself  as  a  suitor  he  could  not  be,  should  not  be, 
treated  with  disdain.  The  truth  was,  that  if  Larkin 
had  not  spoken  that  night,  Swefling  would  have  been 
unable  any  longer  to  restrain  his  impatience.  He, 
tingling  and  burning,  would  have  informed  old  Sam 
of  his  passion  for  Dorothy  and  his  horrible  fear  of 
Marduke.  If  his  long  years  of  secret  devotion  were 
about  to  end  in  this  disaster,  he  might  become  dan- 
gerous. Dorothy  was  in  disgrace.  He  never  saw 
her  at  the  window  now.  He  heard  that  she  had  been 
weeping,  that  Sam  and  Mrs.  Bleeks  and  Mrs.  Muzzey 
were  very  angry  with  her.  Perhaps  this  was  the 
favourable  moment  to  be  bold,  the  chance  of  a  life- 
time and  a  lovetime.  Love,  to  be  sure,  is  not  only 
romantic  but  necromantic,  and  plays  strange  tricks 
with  cabmen  as  well  as  with  kings. 

The  old  eight-day  clock  in  Larkin's  parlour  was 
slowly  striking  eleven,  stuttering  and  stammering 
out  the  hour,  grumbling  and  wheezing  as  if,  like  a 
miser,  grudging  every  golden  minute  of  the  night. 
On  the  table  there  was  laid  a  supper  of  bread  and 
cheese  and  beer,  and  places  were  set  for  two.  The 
room  had  an  air  of  old-fashioned  comfort,  in  spite 


254         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

of  chairs  with  perpendicular  mahogany  backs  and  a 
stiff  sofa  which  looked  like  a  couch  of  penitence. 
Two  tall  brass  candlesticks  glittered  on  the  sideboard, 
and  between  them  stood  an  ancient  brass  urn.  A 
block  of  tan  turf  was  burning  among  the  coals  in  the 
fireplace,  and  emitted  an  odour  pleasantly  pungent. 
On  the  wall  there  were  some  old  hunting  prints, 
and  as  Swelling  cast  his  eyes  around  the  room  he 
thought  that  Mr.  Larkin  was  a  very  prosperous  man. 

"  Dick,"  said  Sam,  looking  keenly  at  him,  "  you  're 
wery  smart  to-night.  But  you  're  always  smart.  That 
'at  of  yourn !  I  can  see  my  face  in  it.  It 's  the 
smartest  and  glossiest  silk  'at  on  the  'ead  of  any 
cabby  in  London.  You  're  a  town  toff.  But  wot 
d'  you  say  to  goin'  back  to  the  farm  at  Colchester  ? 
Perhaps  too  far  out  o'  the  world  ?  Not  gay  enough, 
eh?" 

"  Wy,"  began  Swelling,  as  he  looked  somewhat 
shyly  and  slyly  at  Larkin,  "  I  would  like  it  no  end. 
But  —  " 

"  But  wot  ?  "  asked  Larkin. 

"  Well,"  replied  Swelling,  "  in  course  I  would 
miss  things  'ere." 

"  Just  sit  down  there  and  'ave  a  bit  of  supper," 
said  Larkin,  as  he  sat  opposite,  "  and  tell  me  who 
you  'd  miss  most.  D'  ye  see  any  green  in  my  eye  ? 
'Ave  some  cheese  and  there  's  beer.  Plenty  more  if 
it 's  wanted." 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         255 

Swelling  sat  blushing  before  his  host,  and  felt 
very  awkward.  The  sharp  night  air  had  given  his 
clear  eyes  a  wonderfully  fresh  look.  It  was  a  round 
bullet  head  with  dark,  closely  cropped  hair.  Larkin 
had  always  liked  the  face,  which  was  frank  and 
engaging. 

"  Who  would  you  miss  most  ? "  repeated  Larkin, 
grinning. 

"  If  I  says  all  I  feels,"  replied  Swefling,  faltering, 
"  I  might  get  the  sack." 

"  Just  you  sing  out  all  you  feels,"  said  Larkin, 
encouragingly.  "  That 's  the  best  dodge  when  dealin' 
with  a  man  like  me." 

"  Guv'nor  —  "  he  began,  but  stopped  in  confusion. 

"  Go  on,  I  says." 

"  Well,  it 's  like  this  —  Splice  me ! I  'm  spavined ! 
I  dunnow  the  way  to  go  on  a'ead." 

"  Splice  you  ?  "  laughed  Larkin.  "  That  sounds 
like  love  and  sweetheartin'.  Wot 's  up  with  the 
feller?" 

"  Guv'nor,"  continued  Swefling,  "  I  jist  feel  like  a 
'oss  meetin'  a  steam-ingine." 

"  S'ppose  the  steam-ingine  stops  to  let  the  'oss 
go  past,"  suggested  Larkin. 

"  I  'm  blowed  if  I  can  'elp  savin'  it,  then,  Mr. 
Larkin.  I  'm  very  fond  on  'er,"  said  Swefling. 

"  In  course  you  are.  And  you  thinks,  maybe, 
that 's  a  piece  of  news.  Wy,  I  've  knowed  it  long 
ago." 


256         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

"I  thought  you  did,"  replied  Swefling,  in  per- 
plexity, and  looking  now  at  Larkin  and  now  at 
the  fire.  "  It  ain't  as  if  I  was  a  pauper,  Mr.  Larkin. 
I  don't  wear  weskits  and  boots  that 's  'alfway  to 
the  rag  shop.  If  a  feller  throws  it  at  me,  meanin' 
to  be  hinsultin',  that  I  'm  a  cabby,  I  wipes  that  off 
my  face  as  I  wipes  a  London  smut." 

"  And  quite  right,  too.  I  was  a  cabby  myself," 
said  Larkin,  proudly. 

"  And  my  mother's  brother  's  gone  and  died  and 
left  me  four  hundred  pounds,"  continued  Swefling, 
with  much  greater  assurance  while  a  very  bright 
look  suddenly  appeared  in  his  eyes.  "  And,  as  you 
know,  I  'm  sleepin'  now  at  Mrs.  Wix's." 

"  S'pposin'  I  says  straight  off  that  I  gives  you 
Dorrie  ?  "  asked  Larkin. 

Swefling's  excitement  made  him  rise. 

"  If  this  ain't  out  and  out  luck,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  No  ?  You  means  it,  Mr.  Larkin  ?  This  goes  im- 
mense. Wy,  sir,  I  can't  'ardly  b'lieve  it." 

"  In  course  I  means  it,"  said  Larkin,  authorita- 
tively ;  and  then  he  began  to  unfold  his  plans. 

"  But  s'pposin'  Cupid  won't  shoot  ?  "  asked  Swef- 
ling, in  doubt. 

"  You  means  as  Dorrie  won't  'ave  you  ?  " 

Swefling  nodded  and  waited,  while  Larkin  re- 
mained silent  for  a  few  moments. 

"  I  '11  soothe  the  filly,"  replied  Larkin  at  length. 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER         257 

"  I  never  fights  a  colt  unless  I  thinks  I  '11  be  wic- 
torious.  You  listen  to  me." 

He  pointed  mysteriously  towards  the  east 

"  That 's  heast,  ain't  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Swefling. 

"  Well,  she  's  goin'  out  heast,"  continued  Larkin. 
"  To-morrow  night  you  're  goin'  to  drive  'er  to  Liver- 
pool Street  to  catch  the  8.45.  She's  goin'  to  the 
farm  to  think  things  over  a  bit.  She  's  quite  glad 
to  go  —  wants  to  be  out  of  this.  You  just  drive  'er 
to  Liverpool  Street,  and  say  nothin'  at  all.  She  '11 
come  round  to  you  all  the  sooner.  Mind,  say  nothin' 
at  all.  Jenkins  "  (the  man  who  managed  Larkin'a 
farm)  "  '11  be  meetin'  'er  when  you  pull  up  at  the 
station,  and  all  you  've  got  to  do  is  to  see  'er  into  his 
'ands.  I  'm  too  old  in  the  tooth  not  to  know  wot 
things  women  are.  Oh  yes,  your  eyes  are  blazin' ! 
But  don't  be  sich  a  fool  as  to  think  that  Dome's 
'ead  went  dizzy  all  along  of  that  damned  rascal 
Marduke.  She  's  not  that  kind.  But  any'ow  we  're 
goin'  to  put  'er  out  of  danger.  Jenkins  don't  you 
know,  'as  got  a  crib  in  Canada,  and  so  'e  's  goin'  away. 
I  '11  put  you  in  his  place  at  the  farm,  and  so  you  and 
your  wife  '11  'ave  it  all  to  yourselves  when  I  'm  dead 
and  gone." 

It  would  be  difficult,  it  would  be  impossible,  to 
give  any  accurate  inventory  of  the  sensations  and 
the  emotions  of  Mr.  Richard  Swefling  while  this 


258         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

panorama  of  his  future  was  unrolled  before  him. 
A  series  of  strange  ejaculations,  frequent  handshak- 
ings with  Mr.  Larkin,  some  moisture  in  the  eyes  and 
certain  trembling  in  his  voice  —  these  were  the  vis- 
ible symptoms  of  his  fever. 

"  If  it  ain't  stilton,  if  it  ain't  fit  to  put  a  feller 
in  a  good  skin,  and  if  I  don't  love  'er  as  'ard  as  a 
'ammer,  I  '11  be  shot !  "  he  exclaimed,  grasping  Mr. 
Larkin's  hand  once  more. 

Sam  advised  him  to  "  go  steady,  to  handle  the 
ribbons  like  a  man  who  knows  the  job,"  and  offered 
more  advice  in  language  peculiar  to  his  own  horsey 
experience.  Thus  he  counselled  him  "  to  leap  on  the 
snaffle,"  and  told  him  that  he  might  take  his  dying 
oath  that  "  when  a  horse  is  skittish,  four  wheels  are 
better  than  two,"  and  that  "  when  a  colt  bears  heavily 
on  the  bit,  raw  lip  is  the  result,  and  when  raw  lip 
heals  it  becomes  callous." 

Swefling  nodded  assent;  but  when  he  began  to 
mention  Marduke,  Mr.  Larkin  seemed  not  to  wish 
to  hear  the  name  again. 

"  I  knows  in  the  Lor's  Prayer,"  said  Swefling,  "  it 
says  '  forgive  us  our  sins  as  we  forgive  'em  as  sins 
against  us.'  It 's  a  wery  good  thing,  no  doubt ;  but 
if  Marduke  conies  around  'ere  any  more,  ten  to 
one  the  Lor's  Prayer  '11  go  clean  out  of  my  'ead.  And 
it 's  not  to  a  loryer  I  '11  go.  I  '11  take  the  paint  off 
the  chaney  with  my  own  'ands  —  " 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER         259 

Mr.  Larkin,  however,  shook  his  head,  stopped  him, 
and  said,  "  That 's  not  in  my  street"  And  so  they 
wished  each  other  good  night,  and  a  proud  man 
walked  out  of  Larkin's  yard,  muttering,  "  She  's  a 
strapper,  she 's  a  spanker,"  and  looked  up  to  a  dark- 
ened window ;  for  Dorrie  was  asleep,  unconscious  that 
her  life  was  being  arranged  for  her. 


CHAPTER   SEVENTEENTH 

DOEOTHY  was  in  love  with  Marduke,  and  when  Mr. 
Larkin,  with  some  signs  of  excitement  and  apology, 
laid  before  her  his  plans  for  her  marriage  with 
Swefling,  she  looked  at  him,  incredulous  and 
aghast. 

"  It  can  just  be  as  soon  as  you  likes,"  he  said. 
"  'E  '11  make  a  good  manager  for  my  business." 

"  Never,  father,  never !  "  she  replied,  white  and 
trembling,  and  watching  the  scowl  which  gathered  on 
Larkin's  red,  rough  face. 

Larkin,  who  sincerely  believed  that  he  was  doing 
the  best  for  Lord  Swaffham's  bastard,  tried  hard  to 
be  patient  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  but  when  she 
became  hysterical  he  became  angry.  Then  he  began 
to  abuse  her,  and  to  taunt  her  with  Marduke,  and 
to  threaten  to  put  her  out  of  the  house.  She  denied 
that  she  was  hankering  after  Marduke,  and  wept  and 
blushed.  Even  in  her  terror  and  confusion  and  sub- 
mission, however,  there  was  something  in  Dorothy 
which  made  Larkin  conscious  of  his  own  inferiority. 
She  was  hardly  more  than  a  child,  but  her  dignity 

irritated  him. 

260 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER    261 

"  Good  God !  "  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  "  don't  look 
like  that!  I  thought  it  was  your  mother  standin' 
there!" 

Dorothy  glanced  at  him,  and  he  seemed  to  be 
getting  into  a  rage.  But  she  boldly  shook  her  head 
to  warn  him  that  she  would  never  consent  to  marry 
Swefling. 

"  You  won't,  won't  you  ?  "  he  said ;  "  but  I  'm 
thinkin'  you  shall.  Look  at  me  straight." 

Dorothy  turned  her  dark  liquid  eyes  upon  him 
again,  and  then  a  strange  feeling  of  repulsion  seized 
her.  She  shrank  back  with  a  little  cry. 

"  Why,  father,  what  is  wrong  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  says  look  at  me  straight,  and  you  're  not  doin* 
it,"  Larkin  replied. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  she  said,  mustering  all  her  courage 
and  facing  Larkin,  although  she  winced  and  quailed 
when  their  eyes  met. 

"  Tell  me  this,"  demanded  Larkin,  in  a  brow- 
beating, challenging  way :  "  you  're  hankerin'  after 
that  damned  scoundrel  Marduke  ?  You  're  goin'  to 
give  yourself  up  to  him  ?  Tell  me  that." 

"No,"  said  Dorrie,  quivering  like  a  frightened1 
bird. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  replied  Larkin,  a  little  more 
gently;  but  he  immediately  spoiled  the  effect  by 
adding,  "  Yet,  'ow  am  I  to  b'lieve  you  ?  Wot  sort 
of  objection  can  you  'ave  to  Dick  Swefling  ? " 


262         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

"  I  don't  love  him.  ...  I  say  nothing  against 
him,"  replied  Dorrie. 

"  Wy,  if  you  get  'im  it  would  be  a  slice  of  luck 
for  such  as  you,"  retorted  Larkin.  But  then  he  sud- 
denly changed  his  tone.  "  Look  'ee  'ere,  this  is  wot 's 
goin'  to  'appen.  You  just  pack  up  and  be  ready  to 
go  to  the  farm  to-night,  by  the  8.45  for  Colchester. 
I  've  told  'em  at  the  farm  to  be  ready  for  you. 
Jenkins  '11  be  meetin'  you  at  Liverpool  Street." 

Dorothy  was  delighted  at  this  turn  of  events,  for 
nothing  could  have  pleased  her  better. 

"  All  right,"  continued  Larkin,  "  that 's  a  good 
gal,  and  p'r'aps  you  '11  larn  to  see  wot 's  in  Dick  in 
good  time.  You  just  clear  out  o'  this.  You  've 
been  lookin'  sicklified  any'ow  them  past  weeks,  and 
the  farm  '11  just  suit  you.  Wot  d'  you  say  to  Aunt 
Muzzey  goin'  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  'd  rather  go  alone,"  said  Dorrie.  "  Oh  yes. 
Let  me  go  alone.  I  'm  so  glad !  Let  me  spend  all  the 
spring  and  summer  out  there." 

"  All  right,  you  little  wagabone,"  said  Larkin. 
"  We  '11  come  out  in  summer,  too.  But  you  're  just 
a  filly  wot 's  allus  wantin'  to  'ave  'er'  ead.  Just  the 
fliest  little  bit  of  a  filly  that  ever  was.  Well,  go 
and  pack:  8.45  to-night." 

It  was  in  Larkin's  character  to  settle  things  in  this 
brief,  sudden  way,  and  he  liked  all  long  stories  to 
be  made  short.  As  for  Dorrie,  she  was  only  too 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         263 

glad  when  the  interview  was  over,  too  glad  to  pack, 
too  glad  to  escape  to  the  country  where  she  might 
be  able  to  dream  of  Marduke  unmolested.  The 
truth  was  that  she  had  been  meditating  escape,  for 
there  was  now  something  repulsive  to  her  in  the  life 
at  Larkin's  yard.  Dim  longings,  a  desire  for  a  wider 
world,  strange  ungovernable  impulses  towards  free- 
dom and  towards  love  had  taken  possession  of  her. 
She  was,  of  course,  ignorant  of  the  real  source  of 
those  feelings,  but  every  month  that  passed  seemed 
to  make  her  more  and  more  conscious  that  there  was 
something  amiss  between  her  and  her  surroundings. 
It  was  doubtless  the  advent  of  Marduke  which  had 
awakened  these  new  thoughts  and  discontents  and 
ambitions.  She  had  proof  that  she  was  admired,  and 
admired  by  a  gentleman  in  a  great  position.  A  sud- 
den idea  gladdened  her  and  made  her  cheeks  burn. 
Did  Marduke  ever  hunt  in  Essex?  Perhaps  she 
might  have  a  chance  of  seeing  him  before  the  hunting 
season  came  to  an  end  ?  As  she  packed  her  box  of 
paints  and  paint  brushes,  her  easel,  some  canvasses 
and  her  little  artist's  stool,  great  schemes  took  hold 
of  her  imagination.  She  would  paint  a  wonderful 
landscape  on  the  borders  of  the  forest,  and  perhaps 
a  British  Rider  would  be  in  it.  For  although  she  had 
seen  Marduke  only  twice,  she  knew  his  face  thor- 
oughly, and  with  that  extraordinary  accuracy  of 
vision  which  love  brings,  she  had  already  drawn  it 


264         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

in  pencil  several  times.  She  counted  the  names  of 
great  women  artists,  and  asked  herself  why  should  not 
she  become  a  Le  Brun,  or  a  Kauffimann,  or  a  Bon- 
heur  ?  And  so  she  packed  and  packed,  while  all  the 
time  her  brain  was  packing  itself  with  busy  thoughts. 
Ah,  that  intoxicating  dance !  What  an  age  it  seemed- 
since  the  gala  night  at  Jellini's.  And  this  set  her 
thinking  of  Herr  Habenichts,  whom  she  would  be 
sorry  to  leave.  But  she  would  write  to  him  from 
the  farm;  perhaps  on  the  sly  she  would  invite  the 
old  man  to  have  tea  with  her,  and  a  stroll  in  the 
forest  some  sunny  afternoon.  He  would  love  that! 
and  she  would  dance  in  the  forest !  Her  little  Hessian 
box  was  now  almost  full,  and  she  stopped  packing, 
and  looked  at  herself  in  her  mirror.  Yes,  she  was 
ambitious,  and  she  knew  it.  Her  lips  were  red,  her 
eyes,  with  their  deep,  steady  look,  seemed  like  still 
wells,  and  her  hair  had  that  sheen  and  richness  which 
Marduke  had  described  with  so  much  enthusiasm  to 
the  angry  old  dowager.  The  day  was  passing,  but 
not  quickly  enough,  and  Dorothy  longed  to  start  for 
Liverpool  Street  Station.  She  went  downstairs  and 
attempted  to  be  pleasant  to  Mrs.  Muzzey,  but  Mrs. 
Muzzey  was  in  a  very  subdued  and  silent  mood.  And 
something  had  happened  to  Mrs.  Bleeks,  who  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen.  When  Dorothy  asked  Larkin  that 
afternoon  where  Mrs.  Bleeks  was,  he  replied  mys- 
teriously that  she  had  gone  away. 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER    265 

"  To  the  Farm  ? "  asked  Dorothy,  in  dismay. 

"  No,"  said  Larkin ;  "  don't  worry  me.  I  'm  glad 
you  're  packed  up.  Dick  Swefling  '11  drive  you  to 
the  station." 

Although  Dorothy  was  not  pleased  at  the  news, 
she  said  nothing,  and  waited  impatiently  for  the 
evening.  About  four  o'clock  she  had  looked  out  of 
her  window,  and  had  noticed  that  a  fog  was  coming 
down.  For  the  month  was  still  January,  and  during 
the  last  few  days  the  atmosphere  had  been  growing 
denser.  It  was  now  half-past  four,  but  the  street 
lamps  had  already  been  lit  at  two  o'clock.  First  a 
light  mist  appeared,  woven  as  of  thin  muslin,  but 
gradually  it  became  thicker  and  darker  in  its  texture. 
Swefling  was  not  due  in  Larkin's  yard  till  about 
half-past  seven,  but  he  was  already  turning  home- 
wards as  a  precaution  against  delays.  He  had  again 
been  wandering  rather  aimlessly  up  and  down  the 
streets,  for  his  thoughts  were  fixed  on  the  wonderful 
promise  which  Mr.  Larkin  had  made.  Of  course, 
he  was  tormented  by  the  fear  that  Mr.  Larkin's 
friendliness  would  avail  nothing  if  Dorothy  remained 
proud.  Meantime,  he  resolved  to  follow  the  old 
man's  advice,  to  make  no  immediate  advances,  merely 
to  say  "  Good  evening,"  and  lift  his  hat,  and  drive 
the  little  lady  in  silence  to  Liverpool  Street  Station. 
And  because  of  the  fog  and  the  night  he  need  hardly 
have  troubled  to  smarten  himself.  New  gloves,  new 


266         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

collar,  hat  that  had  been  specially  ironed  would  re- 
main alike  invisible;  for  the  fog  was  taking  the 
gloss  off  everything.  In  Larkin's  yard  it  had  crept 
into  every  cranny  and  recess,  and  the  gas  jets  were 
burning  in  the  stables.  At  half -past  five  Mr.  Larkin 
said  that  Dorothy  should  wait  till  the  following  day. 

"  Give  me  another  cab  and  I  '11  start  immediately," 
she  suggested,  rather  pleased  thus  to  disDense  with 
Swefling's  services. 

"  Oh,  it 's  not  that.  Sweff  '11  come  all  right,  don't 
you  worry  —  'e  '11  come.  In  course  he  will,"  said 
Larkin,  laughing.  "  Besides,  it  '11  'urt  'is  feelin's 
if  you  took  another  man.  'E  's  allus  drove  the  f  am'ly. 
Just  you  stop  a- worry  in'." 

"All  right,"  said  Dorothy,  vexed,  and  waited  for 
two  hours. 

She  was  in  the  plain  dark  blue  costume  trimmed 
with  black  braid  which,  together  with  a  neat  beaver 
hat  with  black  feathers,  made  her  look  so  pretty  and 
so  far  above  her  class  that  Mrs.  Bleeks  and  Mrs. 
Muzzey  were  offended  and  could  find  nothing  dis- 
agreeable enough  to  say  about  the  milliner  and  the 
dressmaker.  On  that  afternoon,  however,  neither  of 
the  aunts  was  to  be  seen,  and  Dorothy  wondered 
whether  Mr.  Larkin  had  ordered  them  to  keep  out 
of  the  way.  She  stood  impatiently  again  at  the  open 
door  where  the  fog  was  blowing  in.  Her  luggage 
was  on  the  doorstep. 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER    267 

"  Shut  the  door  and  come  in,"  said  Larkin ;  "  no 
use  standin'  chitterin'  there,  and  fillin'  the  rooms 
with  fog.  Wy,  there  's  a  fog !  It  'a  a  nigger  for 
blackness,  and  I  'ave  n't  seen  the  like  for  ten  years. 
You  can't  go.  That  '11  last  till  to-morrow." 

"  If  you  had  only  given  me  a  cab  two  hours  ago," 
pouted  Dorothy. 

"  It 's  so  thick  you  could  shake  'ands  with  it," 
continued  Larkin.  "  And  it 's  one  o'  them  clingin' 
sticky  ones  wot  wraps  itself  round  you,  and  won't 
leave  go.  Well,  there  's  seven  cabs  out  in  it,  and  I 
jest  'ope  there  '11  be  no  smash.  Wot 's  that  ?  " 

He  had  heard  a  noise  in  the  yard,  and  presently 
blurred  lights  appeared  coming  towards  the  door. 

"  That 's  Audacity,  I  know  'is  step,"  exclaimed 
Larkin. 

When  the  cab  drew  up,  and  Swelling's  figure  be- 
came recognisable,  Larkin  cried  — 

"  Well,  lad,  if  this  ain't  a  stunner.  You  can  cut 
it  like  a  loaf." 

"  No  mistake,"  replied  Swelling,  "  she 's  a 
thumper." 

"  Feel  like  bein'  up  a  tree  ? " 

"  Just  a  bit.  But  it  ain't  gettin'  no  worse.  Big 
smash  in  the  Strand,  though,  and  it 's  wery  darkish 
in  Oxford  Street.  Good  evening,  Miss  Dorrie," 

"  Good  evening,"  said  Dorrie ;  "  we  should  start 
at  once." 


268         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

"  Wot  d'  you  say,  Dick  ? "  asked  Larkin,  as  lie 
patted  Audacity's  nose.  "  Talk  abaht  lookin'  for 
a  pin  in  a  'aystack !  It 's  one  o'  them  damp  ones, 
too,  the  'oss  is  drippin'." 

"  I  '11  'ave  a  try,"  said  Swefling ;  "  if  we  starts  now 
we  could  do  it.  Funny  thing,  the  electric  lights  don't 
get  through  it  at  all,  and  the  old  gas  lamps  does  better. 
I  '11  'ave  a  go  at  the  side  streets  till  Finsbury  Square, 
and  p'r'aps  that  '11  do  the  trick." 

Larkin  whistled,  and  Vardy  and  another  stableman 
came  running  to  put  the  luggage  on  the  top.  Dorothy 
was  conscious  of  a  strange  excitement  as  she  bade 
good-bye  and  as  her  "  father  "  said  "  Mind  and  take 
care  of  yerself."  He  shouted  it  a  second  time  while 
the  cab  disappeared. 

What  a  night  for  thieves !  The  street  lights  were 
asphyxiated,  and  the  great  electric  lamps  in  the  road- 
ways were  reduced  to  the  value  of  a  few  candles. 
Every  light  in  London  was  labouring  against  this  vast 
extinguisher.  Bleared  and  dim,  they  might  have  been 
farthing  dips  attempting  to  dissipate  the  black,  in- 
sidious, all-covering,  and  bewildering  mist.  From 
Highgate  to  Streatham,  from  Greenwich  to  Brentford 
and  from  Richmond  to  Hackney,  London  and  her 
suburbs  were  blotted  out.  Fine  mist  which  is  sun- 
shot  and  diaphanous,  woven  as  of  aerial  lace,  might 
be  the  handiwork  of  fays;  but  this  dead  black  thing 
full  of  detritus,  a  kind  of  floating  atmospheric  desert, 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         269 

sand-like,  and  withering  and  eclipsing  all  life  and 
light  and  motion,  might  be  the  work  of  demons.  Foot 
passengers  clutched  at  railings  or  stood  on  the  kerb- 
stones listening  for  the  sound  of  wheels,  and  peering 
for  a  clear  space  to  dart  across  and  vanish  again  in 
the  darkness.  There  was  a  sinister  silence  in  the  side 
streets,  which  seemed  like  lanes  leading  into  infinite 
Saharas.  But  in  the  broader  thoroughfares,  where 
the  traffic  was  coming  to  a  deadlock,  there  was  a  sen- 
sation, a  murmur  as  of  mighty  machinery  slowing 
down;  and  the  air  was  filled  with  the  snorting  of 
horses,  the  vibration  of  motor  vehicles  standing  stock 
still,  the  warning  cries  of  drivers  or  the  crash  of  col- 
lision, the  policeman's  whistle,  the  order  to  stop  or  to 
go  on,  and  the  detonation  of  railway  signals,  and  here 
comes  a  flaming  fire  engine  attempting  to  push  its 
impatient  way  to  the  ringing  of  a  loud,  insistent 
alarum  bell.  Not  a  public  clock  visible,  not  a  tower, 
for  round  every  tower  and  on  every  London  roof  the 
fog  lay  heavy  like  a  Dead  Sea. 

The  cab  stopped.  Swefling  had  chosen  the  side 
streets,  but  they  were  the  side  streets  of  an  unlit  laby- 
rinth. Dorothy  began  to  feel  afraid.  The  cab  lamps 
were  so  powerless  that  she  could  not  even  see  Auda- 
city's ears,  and  not  even  a  buckle  of  the  harness  was 
glimmering.  The  window  was  closed,  and  the  fog 
was  right  up  against  it  Suddenly  the  vehicle  gave 
a  lurch,  and  then  the  trap  door  was  opened. 


270         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

"  I  'm  blowed  if  I  ain't  on  the  pavement,"  said 
Swefling,  "  'angin'  on  to  a  railin'.  The  light 's  gone 
clean  out  of  that  street  lamp.  That 's  wot  we  banged 
against.  Blowed  if  I  knows  where  we  are.  Woa, 
woa,  woa !  " 

There  was  a  sudden  crash  as  the  lamp  fell  and  the 
iron  post  and  the  glass  cage  rang  and  jingled  on  the 
pavement.  The  horse  gave  a  spring  as  if  about  to 
bolt. 

"  Woa !  woa !  "  cried  Swefling,  reining  him  in. 
"  That 's  the  bally  old  street  lamp  down !  Woa,  hoss, 
there  's  a  daisy.  If  this  ain't  as  dark  's  a  wolf's 
mouth,  I  '11  be  shot." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ? "  asked  Dorothy, 
agitated  and  peering  from  side  to  side.  "  Can't  you 
go  on  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  'm  north  or  south,  heast 
or  west,"  said  Swefling ;  "  we  don't  carry  compasses 
on  this  job,  and  s'pposin'  I  'ad  one,  much  good  I  'd 
get  from  it  on  a  night  like  this.  Woa,  woa !  " 

There  was  something  in  his  voice  which  disturbed 
Dorothy.  He  did  not  seem  to  be  very  eager  to  find 
the  way,  and  when  he  began  to  chuckle  as  if  it  were 
all  a  good  joke  and  a  laughing  matter,  Dorothy  became 
actually  nervous,  and  she  wished  that  she  had  not  set 
out 

"  I  Ve  lost  the  train,"  she  said,  almost  angrily. 

"  For  all  I  knows,  we  're  on  the  road  to  Kensington 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         271 

or  Lambeth,"  muttered  Swefling.  "  Fact  is,  if  I  once 
got  near  the  river  I  'd  be  pleased." 

"  The  river  ?  "  asked  Dorothy.     "  Why  ?  " 

"  In  course,"  he  explained,  "  it  would  be  a  long  way 
round,  but  once  I  got  to  London  Bridge  I  would  go 
straight  for  Liverpool  Street." 

"  Well,  what 's  to  be  done  ?  "  asked  Dorothy,  irri- 
tated and  very  unhappy. 

Now  Richard  Swefling  had  been  a  straight  lad, 
and  in  a  moment  of  perfect  self-control  he  never  would 
have  taken  advantage  of  any  girl,  least  of  all  of  Doro- 
thy. But  at  that  moment  he  did  not  possess  complete 
self-mastery.  The  darkness  tempted  him,  and  he  for- 
got Larkin's  advice  to  make  no  advances.  He  suddenly 
drew  up  the  cab's  front  window,  and  said  in  a  curious 
tone,  "  Want  some  fresh  air  ? "  and  then  burst  out 
laughing  again.  Apparently  they  were  in  a  street 
lined  on  both  sides  with  warehouses  which,  of  course, 
were  at  that  hour  closed.  Not  a  light  was  visible 
except  on  the  opposite  pavement,  where  a  gas  lamp  was 
struggling  to  shine,  but  was  creating  only  a  pale  and 
useless  shimmer.  Not  a  footstep  in  the  street,  but  far 
off  there  was  a  dull  intermittent  thud,  as  of  traffic 
started,  and  then  suddenly  stopped,  and  from  below 
the  roadway  came  the  vibration  caused  by  an  under- 
ground train.  Dorothy  clasped  her  hands  while  a 
horrible  sense  of  helplessness  bewildered  and  sickened 
her.  Before  she  was  aware  of  the  event  Swefling  had 


272         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

descended  from  the  cab,  but  when  she  became  con- 
scious of  a  dark  something  moving  near  the  step,  and 
as  she  felt  the  vehicle  sink  under  the  weight  of  someone 
entering  it,  and  then  heard  a  noise  on  the  footboard, 
then  a  voice,  and  felt  a  hand  upon  her,  she  shrieked. 

"  You  coward,  you  coward !  "  she  cried,  anticipat- 
ing roughness  and  evil. 

"  Wy,  wot 's  wrong  ?"  he  asked  while  she  was  writh- 
ing like  a  bird  in  a  cage.  "  Don't  be  frightened.  Mr. 
Larkin  spoke  to  me.  Wy,  stop  the  'owlin',  Miss  Dor- 
rie.  I  'm  just  wantin'  to  'ave  a  little  talk  with  you." 

He  sat  on  the  footboard  while  with  one  hand  he 
drew  down  the  reins  from  the  "  butterfly,"  so  as  to 
hold  Audacity  in  check.  With  his  other  hand  he  took 
one  of  Dorothy's  feet,  and  then  he  bent,  and  kissed  it. 

"  I  'm  wantin'  to  kiss  your  mouth  just  like  that," 
he  said.  "  Don't  you  move !  " 

Terror  had  taken  speech  from  her,  but  she  was 
struggling  to  get  out  of  the  cab. 

"  Wot 's  the  row  ?  "  demanded  Swefling.  "  Keep 
quiet,  will  you  ?  Mr.  Larkin  knows  all  about  it,  and 
says,  says  'e,  'e  's  pleased.  Dorrie,  jest  say  you  love 
me.  Wy,  talk  abaht  fogs !  I  Jm  in  a  fog  plenty,  if 
you  says  you  does  n't  love  me.  Jest  say  you  '11  'ave 
me,  as  the  gal  said  in  the  pantermine  at  Derury  Lane. 
I  can't  'elp  lovin'  you.  It 's  jest  like  splittin'  a  coker- 
nut  —  out  comes  the  milk." 

Apparently  he  was  now  fastening  the  reins  to  the 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER    273 

"  butterfly,"  for  he  was  standing  on  the  footboard, 
and  was  reaching  upwards.  When,  a  moment  later, 
she  felt  him  attempting  to  take  hold  of  her,  she  made 
a  shield  of  her  arms  to  protect  her  face.  A  feeling 
of  loathing  and  dread,  and  a  sensation  as  of  coming 
paralysis  overwhelmed  her.  He  protested  that  he 
meant  no  harm,  but  he  took  an  oath  and  declared  that 
although  he  were  to  be  hanged  for  it  he  would  kiss  her. 
And  so  having  thrust  her  arms  asunder  he  made  her 
submit  to  the  kiss.  Then  she  struck  him. 

"  It 's  true  Mr.  Larkin  said  I  was  to  ride  myself  in 
the  curb,"  said  Swefling,  baffled  and  retreating.  "  But 
I  simply  could  n't.  Well,  s'pposin'  we  try  for  Liver- 
pool Street?  Will  that  please  you  2  I '11  do  my  best." 

She  remained  silent  as  if  in  a  swoon,  whereas  she 
was  terribly  awake  and  enraged.  While  Swefling  was 
remounting  to  his  perch,  Dorothy,  in  obedience  to  a 
sudden  impulse,  quietly  left  the  cab,  unseen,  and  dis- 
appeared within  the  fog.  She  heard  Swefling  drive 
cautiously  down  the  street,  while  she  groped  her  way 
to  an  iron  railing,  part  of  which  moved  inwards  at  her 
touch.  It  was  a  gate.  She  found  herself  on  a  stair- 
way which  led  down  to  the  store  cellars  of  a  ware- 
house, and  she  sank  on  the  stairs,  and  began  to  weep 
hysterically. 

It  was  not  even  the  hazard  of  the  streets  which 
made  her  afraid,  but  the  suspicion,  now  become  a  cer- 
tainty, that  there  was  a  conspiracy  to  make  her  marry 


274         THE    OLD   DAKCE   MASTER 

Swefling.  The  idea  filled  her  with  disgust  and  revolt. 
Larkin's  insistence  and  Swefling's  conduct  made  her 
resolve  at  that  moment  never  to  return  to  the  yard. 
She  felt  a  curious  sensation  in  her  left  hand,  and  she 
discovered  that  during  her  struggle  with  Swefling  he 
had  thrust  a  ring  over  her  gloved  finger.  It  was  the 
ring  which  he  had  supposed  was  set  with  rubies, 
whereas  it  was  set  only  with  garnets.  She  took  it  off, 
and  flung  it  into  the  street.  Her  decision  was  fixed. 
To  go  to  the  farm  might  be  even  more  dangerous  than 
to  return  to  the  yard,  because  Swefling,  with  Larkin's 
consent,  would  probably  follow  her.  And  as  regards 
the  man  whom  she  still  supposed  to  be  her  father,  she 
confessed  to  herself  that  her  feeling  towards  him  had 
been  changing  during  the  last  two  years.  He  was 
somestimes  mysterious;  he  was  occasionally  tender, 
but  he  was  often  harsh  and  forbidding.  And  when 
she  remembered  what  she  had  endured  at  the  hands 
of  Mrs.  Bleeks  and  Mrs.  Muzzey,  all  the  repulsive 
features  of  what  had  been  her  home  caused  her  to 
decide  to  strike  out  for  herself  and  be  free.  Her 
artistic  instincts,  which  were  genuine  and  even  deep, 
had  been  long  suppressed.  Why  not,  like  many  an- 
other girl,  face  the  world?  But  as  she  stared  into 
the  fog-filled  street  she  asked  herself  in  perplexity 
what  her  first  move  was  to  be  ?  Where  to  go  ?  How 
to  subsist  ?  Her  luggage  was  in  the  cab,  and  she  had 
nothing  but  the  clothes  she  was  wearing,  and  about 


THE    OLD  DANCE   MASTER         275 

sixty  shillings  in  her  purse.  Everything  which  she 
possessed  was  either  in  Larkin's  yard  or  at  the  farm 
in  Essex.  Then  she  thought  of  the  payments  of  money 
which  Larkin  now  and  again  made  to  her,  the  source 
of  which  was  to  be  made  clear  when  she  came  of  age. 
She  would  lose  that  too  ?  She  sat  shivering  and  weep- 
ing for  more  than  an  hour.  At  last  two  possibilities 
presented  themselves.  She  might  earn  her  living  by 
painting  or  by  dancing?  Suddenly  she  thought  of 
Herr  Habenichts,  who  was  the  only  friend  she  had. 
She  rose,  and  began  walking  cautiously  up  the  street. 
She  grew  more  frightened  as  she  advanced,  and  she 
began  to  wonder  whether  Swefling  had  already  dis- 
covered her  escape.  As  she  groped  her  way  along  the 
railings  she  turned  once  or  twice  because  she  had  the 
illusion  of  the  sound  of  footsteps  behind.  Then  she 
began  to  run,  but  soon  stopped,  since  she  might  only 
be  running  into  danger.  She  decided  to  walk  all  night 
until  the  fog  lifted,  and  then  go  to  Herr  Habenichts 
at  Mrs.  Wix's  Hotel.  She  slackened  her  pace  still 
further.  Hours  would  pass  before  the  fog  cleared, 
and  therefore  it  scarcely  mattered  where  she  walked 
as  long  as  she  wasted  time.  Meantime  the  dreadful 
night  seemed  to  grow  blacker  and  blacker,  and  the 
place  where  she  was  walking  was  lit  only  at  intervals 
by  street  lamps  which  had  the  appearance  of  ghostly 
tapers  round  which  the  fog  was  circling.  Although 
it  was  a  cold  winter's  night,  the  walking  and  the  ex- 


276         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

citement  were  making  Dorothy  warm,  and  she  re- 
moved the  little  fur  boa  which  she  wore  round  her 
neck.  She  was  still  dazed  by  her  encounter  with 
Swefling,  when  she  felt  a  hand  on  her  waist.  A  man 
in  a  soft  felt  hat  was  pushing  his  face  close  to  hers. 
"  You  just  come  along/'  he  said.  "  What  are  you 
wandering  —  "  But  as  she  gave  a  cry  he  dropped  her, 
and  then  disappeared.  This  experience  made  her 
waver  in  her  resolution  and  she  was  tempted  to  try  to 
find  the  way  back  to  Larkin's  yard.  The  street  led 
towards  a  wider  thoroughfare  in  which  she  discovered 
a  dim  phantasmagoria  of  lights  and  traffic.  She  took 
courage.  She  had  been  walking  for  more  than  an 
hour,  and  now  she  heard  a  clock  strike  ten.  Presently 
she  found  herself  in  Farringdon  Road  and  recognised 
it.  She  turned  southward  towards  the  Embankment. 
Figures  like  dark  ghosts  flitted  past  her,  and  a  sense 
of  fear  and  of  loneliness  and  of  an  unknown  future 
began  to  trouble  her  again.  The  fog,  however,  wa3 
less  dense  in  the  Strand,  and  she  could  see  the  lights 
on  Ludgate  Hill.  Suddenly  she  began  to  run  down 
Bridge  Road  to  Blackfriars,  for  a  hansom  was  passing 
a  lamp  post,  and  she  saw  her  own  box  on  the  top  of 
the  cab.  She  turned  into  a  dark  doorway,  and  stood 
with  her  back  to  the  street  She  waited  breathlessly 
during  a  few  moments.  But  Swefling  had  apparently 
not  noticed  her,  and  she  came  out  of  her  hiding-place. 
Next  door  there  was  a  public  telephone  call  office, 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER  277 
and  as  she  peered  in,  and  saw  a  light,  a  new  idea  sug- 
gested itself.  She  opened  the  glass  door,  and  walked 
into  the  little  compartment,  and  opened  the  Directory. 
Herr  Habenichts  had  frequently  made  her  telephone 
from  Jellini's  to  Mrs.  Wix's  Hotel,  but  she  had  for- 
gotten Mrs.  Wix's  number.  When  she  had  found  it, 
she  lifted  the  receiver  to  her  ear,  dropped  her  two- 
pence into  the  slot,  and  waited.  In  a  few  moments 
Wunn  was  talking  to  her,  and  in  an  excited  voice  she 
was  asking  for  Herr  Habenichts.  But  since  at  least 
half  an  hour  passed  before  she  succeded  in  getting 
into  communication  with  him,  we  may  take  the  oppor- 
tunity of  discovering  what  was  happening  at  the  other 
end  of  the  wire. 


CHAPTER   EIGHTEENTH 

"  IT  's  no  use  sayin'  ye  does  n't  want  it,  for  ye  does ! 
I  never  will  listen  to  sich  words  as  '  nothin'  more  to- 
day.' I  ax  yer  parding,  and  says  it  ain't  true.  Never 
mind  the  fog.  It  don't  take  the  beauty  off  them  dolls. 
Jist  look  at  the  little  hinnocents.  I  gives  valer  for 
money.  It 's  not  yer  charity  I  ax.  I  'd  as  soon  go  to 
the  work'us.  I  ain't  ashamed  to  yarn  my  grub  on 
the  streets  sellin'  dolls.  I  'm  as  honest  a  woman  as 
ever  walked  in  two  shoes.  And  if  Mr.  Larkin,  wot 's 
my  brother,  says  another  word  I  '11  join  a  buryin' 
club." 

Mrs.  Bleeks,  who  was  wrapped  in  an  immense 
brown  woollen  shawl  with  draggled  fringe,  was  sit- 
ting on  a  three-legged  street  stool  next  a  little  table 
on  which  a  coster's  gas  lantern  glimmered  in  the  fog. 
On  the  table  there  was  standing  a  deep  basket  out 
of  which  peeped  the  flaxen  heads  and  rosy  counte- 
nances of  a  crowd  of  wooden  and  waxen  dolls,  some 
naked  and  some  clothed.  Gin  and  bitters,  together 
with  frequent  draughts  of  shandy  gaff,  in  which  she 
had  indulged  throughout  the  afternoon,  had  made  her 
fall  asleep  before  the  fog  had  become  densest,  and 
when  she  awoke  in  the  dark  she  was  terrified. 

278 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         279 

"  All  gone  'ome  ? "  she  asked  as  she  became  aware 
that  she  lacked  an  audience.  . "  I  might  'ave  been 
robbed  or  murdered.  Oh,  wot 's  goin'  to  'appen  to 
me  ?  Ain't  this  fog  a  stunner !  As  thick  's  a  blanket, 
but  not  quite  as  warm  and  comfy." 

She  then  uttered  a  wild  hysterical  laugh  which 
shot  down  the  street  with  the  velocity  of  a  bullet 
while  its  echoes  ricochetted  from  side  to  side.  She 
tried  to  peer  across,  and  saw  on  the  opposite  side  the 
blurred  illumination  of  the  window  of  the  public 
house  where  she  had  been  supplied  with  drink.  As 
she  rose  from  the  kerb-stone  to  collect  her  merchan- 
dise, there  was  visible  in  the  flare  of  the  lamp  a 
placard  strapped  to  her  breast  and  bearing  the  in- 
scription — "  Mr.  Larkin's  sister,  turned  on  the 
street  by  Mr.  Larkin.  Who  will  buy  dolls  ?  "  Thus 
arrayed  she  had  sat  during  one  full  day  on  the 
pavement  fronting  Larkin's  yard,  like  a  she  Lear  out 
in  the  tempest.  And  she  had  passed  two  uncom- 
fortable nights  in  a  very  inferior  lodging-house,  to 
whose  owner,  Mrs.  Mudd,  she  had  revealed  the 
wickedness  of  Mr.  Larkin  and  the  meanness  of  Mrs. 
Muzzey. 

"  It 's  becos  I  'm  that  proud,"  she  said.  "  I  'm 
not  like  Mrs.  Muzzey  wot  '11  take  anythink  from  Sam. 
I  was  allus  the  proudest  of  the  fem'ly,  Mrs.  Mudd. 
But  sich  cruelty  was  never  heerd  on.  Turnin'  a  ole 
party  on-  the  winter  streets  becos  I  tells  the  truth  abaht 


280         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

Sam's  darter  wot  ain't  'is  darter  arter  all.  Oh, 
Samuel  Larkin,  if  you  says  another  word  I  '11  join 
a  buryin'  club." 

Her  adventure  had  been  brief  and  disastrous,  and 
the  fog  finished  it.  In  desperation  and  like  ISTiobe 
destroying  her  children,  she  seized  one  of  the  rosiest 
of  the  waxen  puppets,  wrung  its  neck  as  if  it  had 
been  a  chicken,  and  threw  it  into  the  gutter.  The 
truth  was,  however,  that  Mrs.  Bleeks  had  not  been 
turned  out  of  the  house  by  Mr.  Larkin.  He  certainly 
made  use  of  very  violent  language  to  her  when  he 
heard  that  she  had  been  guilty  of  betraying  to  Monty 
Marduke  the  secret  of  Dorothy's  birth  and  parentage. 
At  first  Mrs.  Bleeks  moped  and  wept,  but  suddenly 
resentment  and  pride  seized  her,  and  she  resolved 
to  be  no  longer  beholden  to  her  brother.  Penniless 
although  she  would  become,  she  decided  to  shift  for 
herself,  and  she  left  the  place  in  indignation.  It 
afforded  her  a  malicious  satisfaction  to  disgrace  her 
brother.  And  therefore  with  the  few  shillings  which 
she  possessed  she  purchased  a  street  table,  a  coster's 
lantern,  a  deep  basket,  and  the  dolls,  and  took  up 
her  position  near  the  entrance  to  Larkin' s  yard. 
During  an  hour  or  two  she  sat  chained  to  the  rail- 
ing, and  she  threatened  the  bystanders  that  she  would 
throw  away  the  key  of  the  padlock.  But  these  dem- 
onstrations did  not  seem  to  disturb  Mr.  Larkin,  whose 
business  went  on  in  the  usual  way.  The  house  door 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         281 

remained  closed  while  Mrs.  Bleeks  continued  to  send 
challenges  from  the  other  side  of  the  railings. 

"  Samuel  Larkin,"  she  said,  while  a  crowd  of  small 
boys  made  a  semicircle  about  her,  "  I  'm  hindepen- 
dent.  I  'opes  to  'ave  a  barrer  of  my  own  some  day 
and  per'aps  a  hass.  Can  I  manage  a  hass  ?  In  coorse 
I  can,  and  'e  don't  need  no  groomin'  like  them  'osses 
of  yourn.  And,  Liza"  (addressing  Mrs.  Muzzey), 
"  I  allus  know'd  you  was  a  cad.  I  allus  know'd  you 
'ad  n't  spirit.  I  would  n't  sit  at  the  same  table.  I  'd 
sooner  join  a  buryin'  club  and  get  buried.  That's 
wot  I  says." 

A  policeman,  however,  had  observed  the  gathering 
crowd,  and  had  ordered  Mrs.  Bleeks  to  unchain  her- 
self and  to  move  on;  so  that  she  was  compelled  to 
take  up  a  position  in  a  side  street  about  three  or 
four  hundred  yards  away,  and  it  was  here  that  the 
fog  had  descended  upon  her. 

"  Oh,"  says  she,  "  it  makes  me  cough.  Wot 's  the 
bally  use  of  them  fogs?  Wot  good  does  they  do? 
And  'ow  am  I  to  get  them  dolls  'ome  ?  And  where  's 
'ome  ?  Oh,  it 's  a  blastit  shame !  Where  am  I  to 
doss?  Sich  things  never  did  'appen  in  the  reign  of 
the  blessed  Wictoria.  I  ain't  got  the  browns  to  pay 
for  a  bed  at  Mrs.  Mudd's.  She  won't  look  at  me. 
Says  I  'm  a  wagabone.  Not  a  tanner  for  a  shake 
down.  And  beer  is  a  dewty  you  owes  yoursilf  in 
sich  a  fog.  Oh,  it  makes  me  cough !  " 


282         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

She  heard  the  sound  of  wheels  passing  down  the 
street,  and  presently  the  lamps  of  a  four-wheeled 
vehicle  became  visible.  Perhaps  it  was  one  of  Mr. 
Larkin's  cabs  returning  to  the  stable.  At  intervals 
foot  passengers  passed  along  the  pavement,  and  some 
of  them  stopped  to  glance  at  Mrs.  Bleeks  and  the 
basket  with  its  rosy  freight.  In  the  light  of  the 
coster's  lantern  the  curve  of  her  bonnet,  and  the 
sharp-featured,  audacious  old  face  beneath  it  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  more  inquisitive,  and  caused  them 
to  stop  longer  than  pleased  her. 

"  Wot  I  ax,"  she  muttered,  addressing  herself  to 
a  young  loiterer  of  the  male  sex,  "  is  this,  wot 's  the 
good  of  lookin'  and  lookin'  if  yer  ain't  goin'  to  buy 
the  dolls  ?  It 's  nothin'  but  imperence,  that  7s  wot 
I  says." 

"  Oh,  my  eye,  Mrs.  Bleeks !  "  exclaimed  Vardy, 
who  was  on  his  way  home  after  his  day's  work  in 
Larkin's  yard,  "  I  says  it  was  you  directly  I  sees 
yer'ole  bonnet  and  the  dolls.  Wot  sort  of  a  hexist- 
ence  is  this  of  yourn  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bleeks  turned,  and  looked  at  him,  and  began 
to  weep. 

"  I  'm  starvin',  Vardy,"  says  she,  "  and  it 's  the 
last  coach  wen  an  ole  lydy  like  I  am  takes  to  sellin' 
dolls  on  the  street." 

"  Yes  'm,"  replied  Vardy,  stepping  nearer,  and 
with  his  greasy  hand  seizing  a  doll  by  the  head. 
"  Oh,  blazes,  'ere  's  a  stunner,  'ere  's  a  smasher !  " 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         283 

He  began  to  stroke  the  doll,  and  pull  its  hair,  and 
then  he  burst  into  a  guffaw. 

"Stop  'andlin'  the  doll  like  that,"  cried  Mrs. 
[Bleeks;  "yer  not  groomin'  a  cab  'oss." 

"  I  '11  buy  the  blarmed  thing,"  said  Vardy,  "  for 
my  sister's  kid.  Wot 's  the  price,  Mrs.  Bleeks  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  she  replied,  weeping  again,  "  I  '11  give  it 
for  nuffin'.  I  remember  as  you  used  to  tie  my  'ead 
wen  I  'ad  the  'eadaches  dreadful  bad." 

"  Thankee,  Mrs.  Bleeks.  But  wot  are  yer  doin' 
sellin'  dolls  in  this  fog  ?  Mr.  Larkin  's  wery  down- 
right mad  at  yer  disgracin'  the  yard,"  said  Vardy,  as 
if  conscious  of  the  wounded  dignity  of  the  family 
and  the  firm.  "  We  did  n't  hexpect  it  of  yer." 

"  I  'm  very  nervoused,  Vardy,"  whispered  Mrs. 
Bleeks ;  "  I  dunnow  'ow  as  I  'm  to  sleep  to-night.  I 
was  thinkin',  Vardy  —  "  and  she  paused. 

"  Wot  was  yer  thinkin',  Mrs.  Bleeks  ?  " 

"I  was  thinkin'  as  you  might  get  me  in  quiet, 
and  put  me  in  one  of  the  kebs  in  the  coach'ouse, 
a  four-wheeler  for  preference.  I  'd  jist  ait  in  it  all 
night." 

"Wy  not,  Mrs.  Bleeks?" 

"  Or,  per'aps,"  she  continued,  "  you  could  put  me 
in  a  loose  box,  Vardy  ?  " 

"  Right  you  are,  Mrs.  Bleeks,"  said  he,  "  I  '11  do 
it,  and  it  '11  be  a  stunnin'  good  doss." 

"  Plenty  of  straw,  Vardy  ? " 


284         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

"  No  hend,"  said  he,  "  warm  and  dry." 

"  And  the  coast  clear  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Bleeks,  anx- 
iously. "  Sam  must  n't  know,  nor  Mrs.  Muzzey.  I 
ain't  got  a  'aypenny  for  a  bed." 

"  It 's  all  gay,"  said  Vardy,  encouraging  her ; 
"  I  '11  put  yer  in  wivout  anyone  seein'  yer." 

"  If  you  '11  carry  the  dolls  and  the  table,  and  the 
light,  Vardy,  I  '11  manage  to  carry  the  stool,"  said 
Mrs.  Bleeks. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  and  then  burst  into  a  laugh  again. 
"  Wy,  Mrs.  Bleeks,  yer  jist  like  a  sandwich  feller  wiv 
that  there  placard." 

"  Vardy,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bleeks,  hobbling  after 
him,  "I'mstarvinM" 

In  one  hand  Vardy  carried  the  coster's  light 
which  threw  its  rays  into  the  surrounding  darkness, 
and  illuminated  fitfully  the  black,  greasy  pavement, 
and  in  the  other  he  held  the  little  street  table,  while 
the  basket  of  dolls  was  slung  on  his  arm. 

"  Not  so  fast,  Vardy,"  cried  Mrs.  Bleeks.  "  Oh, 
it 's  wery  cold." 

"  Yes  'm,"  said  Vardy,  still  leading,  but  he  stopped 
because  Mrs.  Bleeks  was  calling  to  him  that  she  was 
tired.  She  had  sat  down  on  the  three-legged  stool, 
and  she  seemed  about  to  faint,  or  she  was  feigning 
fainting. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  a  gentleman  came 
along,  and  when  he  saw  Vardy  holding  the  light  aloft, 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER    285 

and  bending  over  the  figure  on  the  stool,  he  inquired 
if  the  lady  was  taken  ill. 

"  Vat  is  wrong  vith  de  lady  ? "  he  asked,  in  a 
sympathetic  tone. 

For  the  gentleman  was  Herr  Habenichts,  who  had 
been  attending  a  lecture  on  Goethe  at  the  Goethe 
Society,  and  was  returning  to  Wix's  Residential  Hotel. 
The  exalted  thoughts  of  which  his  mind  was  full  did 
not  prevent  him,  however,  fulfilling  the  promise  which 
he  had  made  to  Monty  Marduke  to  keep  an  eye  on 
Larkin's  Yard.  And  he  was  making  his  way  thither 
with  the  intention  of  questioning  some  of  the  ostlers 
as  to  whether  Dorothy  was  still  in  London.  It  hap- 
pened to  be  the  actual  night  of  escapade  in  which 
Dorothy  had  started  for  Liverpool  Street  Station  in 
Swefling's  cab.  At  the  moment  when  Herr  Habe- 
nichts met  Mrs.  Bleeks,  Dorothy  was  attempting  to 
get  into  telephonic  communication  with  him.  But  for 
him  the  fog  had  no  terrors,  and  he  came  along  re- 
peating to  himself  the  verse  that  had  formed  the  text 
of  the  lecture  which  had  given  him  such  delight  — 

"  Es  bildet  ein  Talent  sich  in  der  Stille, 
Sich  ein  Charakter  in  dem  Strom  der  Welt." 

"  Genius  develops  in  isolation,  Character  in  the  struggle 
of  the  world." 

"  Ach,  ja !  "  he  was  muttering,  as  he  perceived  the 
flare  of  the  coster's  lantern,  "  one  great  thought  shines 
like  dat  light  in  de  fog." 


286         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

And  yet  in  spite  of  the  light  he  suddenly  stumbled 
against  the  stool  on  which  Mrs.  Bleeks  was  sitting. 

"  Wot  are  yer  kickin'  at  ? "  demanded  Vardy. 
"  Can't  yer  look  where  yer  goin'  ?  Don't  yer  see  the 
lydy  is  dyin'  ?  " 

Herr  Habenichts  raised  his  hat,  expressed  the 
most  profound  apology,  and  asked  if  he  could  be  of 
any  service.  He  took  Mrs.  Bleeks's  right  hand,  and 
felt  her  pulse  while  she  groaned.  In  an  authoritative 
voice  he  then  ordered  Vardy  instantly  to  run  for  a 
doctor  and  for  brandy. 

"  Oh,  I  '11  be  shot!  "  cried  Yardy,  "  if  it  ain't  that 
same  ole  fureigner,  'Err  'Abenicks,  wot  teached  Miss 
Dorrie  dancin'." 

Herr  Habenichts,  by  means  of  an  interjection  in  his 
own  language,  expressed  his  surprise  at  the  encounter, 
and  when  he  understood  that  it  was  Mrs.  Bleeks  whom 
he  was  addressing,  he  was  tempted  to  walk  away  as 
quickly  as  possible.  But  she  appeared  to  be  really 
ill,  and  Vardy  declared  that  she  was  about  to  expire 
in  their  hands. 

"  Madam,"  inquired  Herr  Habenichts,  "  vat  can 
I  do  vor  you  ?  " 

"  It  makes  me  cough,"  said  Mrs.  Bleeks,  "  and 
it 's  a  dewty  you  owes  yourself  to  drink  a  glass  of  gin 
and  bitters." 

"  Vat  do  you  say  ?  "  asked  Herr  Habenichts. 

"  My  mouth 's  like  an  oven,"  murmured  Mrs.  Bleeks. 


THE    OLD  DANCE   MASTER         287 

"  It 's  gin  she  wants,"  Vardy  explained.  "  'Er 
pulse  is  stoppin'.  There  's  a  pub  hup  the  street." 

And  then  he  broke  into  a  silly  laugh  again.  Herr 
Habenichts  reproved  him,  drew  out  a  shilling,  and 
ordered  him  to  bring  brandy  instantly.  Vardy,  hav- 
ing deposited  the  table  and  the  doll  basket,  darted 
across  the  street,  and  disappeared,  while  Herr  Habe- 
nichts held  the  coster's  lantern.  When  Mrs.  Bleeks 
understood  who  was  standing  beside  her  she  said  she 
was  "  dreadful  sorry  "  for  the  manner  in  which  she 
had  received  Herr  Habenichts  during  his  recent  visit 
to  Larkin's  yard.  And  then  she  opened  a  diatribe  on 
Dorrie,  Sam  Larkin,  and  Mrs.  Muzzey,  and  explained 
how  it  Was  that  she  was  hawking  dolls. 

"  It 's  like  this,"  she  said,  "  I  'm  proud.  I  speaks 
back  to  Sam.  Some  people  is  like  whelks  wot  takes 
the  bilin'  quiet,  but  crabs  and  lobsters  kicks  as  they 
biles.  Now  there  's  Mrs.  Muzzey,  my  sister,  she  's  a 
whelk.  She  's  no  spirit.  I  allus  said  she  was  a  cad. 
She  '11  take  anythink  from  Sam.  But  I  'm  a  crab 
and  lobster.  I  kicks  as  I  biles.  I  'm  the  proudest  of 
the  fem'ly.  And  that 's  wy  I  goes  on  the  streets 
sooner  as  eat  Sam's  bread.  Is  'e  comin'  ?  " 

"  Vat  ?  "  asked  Herr  Habenichts,  who  understood 
little  of  what  she  said,  but  was  willing  to  open  for 
her  all  the  valves  of  his  sympathy. 

"  Is  the  boy  not  comin'  ?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Bleeks, 
impatiently.  "  'E  's  drinkin'  it  hisself." 


288         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

"  He  come  soon,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  attempt- 
ing to  soothe  her. 

"  I  feels,"  continued  Mrs.  Bleeks,  "  like  I  've  been 
playin'  the  bagpipes,  with  nuffin'  to  quench  the  spark 
in  mj  throat." 

"  He  come !  "  exclaimed  Herr  Habenichts.  "  Ah, 
de  smart  leetle  boy."  For  Vardy  had  arrived. 

Herr  Habenichts  took  the  glass  of  brandy  from 
him,  and  handed  it  to  Mrs.  Bleeks,  who  swallowed  the 
contents  in  one  draught.  Vardy  said  that  he  would 
take  the  glass  to  the  public  house  when  he  passed  up 
the  street  on  his  way  home,  and  that  he  was  now  ready 
to  start  for  the  yard,  and  to  carry  the  things  again. 
Herr  Habenichts,  who  considered  the  opportunity 
excellent  for  obtaining  news  about  Dorothy,  offered 
to  accompany  them,  and  he  gave  his  arm  to  Mrs. 
Bleeks,  and  took  charge  of  the  three-legged  stool. 
Vardy  went  forward  with  the  light,  and  Herr  Habe- 
nichts thought  that  the  scene  was  very  picturesque. 
Mrs.  Bleeks  seemed  to  have  recovered,  and  she  became 
talkative. 

"  In  coorse,"  she  said,  "  it  ain't  your  fault  — 
you  're  a  German." 

"  I  'm  vrom  Vienna,"  replied  Herr  Habenichts. 

"  I  does  n't  blame  you  for  bein'  a  f ureigner.  You 
can't  no  ways  'elp  it,"  she  continued,  unperturbed. 
"  You  seems  a  niceish  sort  of  gent,  arter  all.  Are  you 
married  ? " 


THE    OLD  DANCE   MASTER         289 

"  STein,"  he  said. 

For  some  unaccountable  reason  Mrs.  Bleeks  began 
to  talk  about  widows. 

"  In  gin'ral,"  she  said,  "  a  thing  never  lives  to  be 
second  'and  if  it  ain't  a  real  good  thing  at  fust  And 
that 's  the  truth  about  widders." 

Herr  Habenichts,  however,  was  more  interested  in 
the  courage  which  had  driven  her  on  the  streets,  and 
as  they  walked  along  he  questioned  her  about  her 
experience.  Mrs.  Bleeks  was  holding  her  head  high, 
and  seemed  to  be  very  pleased  to  be  on  Herr  Habe- 
nichts' arm. 

"  I  Ve  been  sellin'  dolls,"  she  replied,  "  for  two 
days  and  a  'arf.  When  you  sells  downright  down,  in 
coorse  the  profit  is  wery  small.  And  then  it 's  like  a 
strange  dog  passin'  through  a  village.  All  the  other 
dogs  wot 's  jealous  sets  upon  it.  And  so  the  costers 
sets  upon  me,  savage  like,  she-dragons  jewin'  awy  as 
'ard  as  ever  they  can,  pricin'  hup  their  own  trash,  and 
downcryin'  yourn.  Lor'  love  us,  sich  a  life !  I  puts 
my  table  next  a  party  wot  was  as  close  as  wax  and 
sold  sponges.  Now  I  knows  a  good  sponge  when  I 
sees  it.  And  so  says  I  to  'er,  '  Them  sponges,'  says  I, 
*  ain't  fit  to  groom  a  hass  with.'  Oh,  she  got  dread- 
ful shirtey,  and  calls  me  an  ole  wagabone  wot  drinks 
gin.  Says  I,  wantin'  to  be  wery  civil  and  changin' 
the  subject  not  to  give  offence,  says  I,  quite  soft  and 
kindly,  '  Wot  exterornary  things  sponges  is !  Is  it  a 


290         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

hanimal  or  a  wegetable  ? '  '  Oh,'  says  she,  '  yer  a 
hanimal.'  i  Well,'  says  I,  '  if  I  'm  a  hanimal,  you  're 
a  wegetable,  and  a  poor  cabbage  at  that ! '  It  was 
dreadful  nasty.  Lor'  love  you,  it  needs  the  hexercise 
of  the  hintellect  to  make  any  'eadway." 

They  had  now  reached  the  gate  of  Larkin's  yard, 
and  Mrs.  Bleeks  began  to  tremble.  She  said  that  if 
her  brother  came  out  she  would  die  on  the  spot.  She 
leaned  heavily  on  Herr  Habenichts'  arm,  and  de- 
clared that  she  would  not  proceed  one  step  until  she 
had  been  assured  that  the  house  door  was  shut,  that 
the  window  blinds  were  drawn,  and  that  neither  Mr. 
Larkin  nor  Mrs.  Muzzey  was  hovering  about  the 
yard.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  yard  was  fog  filled, 
and  at  the  far  end  only  one  dim  light  in  the  night 
stable  was  burning.  Vardy,  however,  went  forward 
to  explore,  and  he  soon  returned,  able  to  guarantee 
that  all  was  quiet.  He  then  led  the  way  across  the 
yard,  and  all  three  moved  on  tiptoe,  while  Herr  Habe- 
nichts promised  Mrs.  Bleeks  to  protect  her  against  her 
unbrotherly  brother.  They  arrived  safely  at  the  door 
of  one  of  the  old  coach-houses,  which  Vardy  rolled 
back  silently  on  its  castors.  Herr  Habenichts  awaited 
the  order  to  advance,  and  when  it  came  he  escorted 
Mrs.  Bleeks  towards  a  roomy  loose  box,  which  con- 
tained ample  bedding  for  the  most  fastidious  horse. 
Vardy  had  laid  down  the  table,  and  the  doll  basket, 
but  he  still  held  the  lantern.  A  rattle  of  halter  chains 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         291 

and  a  snorting  of  cab-horses  greeted  the  intruders 
as  Mrs.  Bleeks  bade  Herr  Habenichts  and  Vardy 
"  Good  night,"  and  moved  into  the  loose  box.  Vardy 
was  giggling. 

"  Vould  you  like  a  hot-water  bottle  ?  "  asked  Herr 
Habenichts,  solemnly;  but  Mrs.  Bleeks  declined, 
and  the  door  of  the  loose  box  was  shut  upon  her. 

"  I  never  thought  I  'd  go  to  bed  like  a  cab-'oss," 
she  was  heard  to  say  before  she  sank  thankfully  in 
the  straw,  and  then  into  a  profound  slumber. 

When  Herr  Habenichts  was  crossing  the  yard  again, 
he  asked  Vardy  if  Dorothy  was  at  home.  Larkin's 
house  was  dark  except  for  the  lighted  threshold,  and 
Vardy  said  that  Dorothy  had  been  driven  that  same 
evening  to  Liverpool  Street  Station. 

"  Vat !  "  exclaimed  Herr  Habenichts. 

"  I  says  she  was  driv  by  Swef  to  Liverpool  Street," 
repeated  Vardy.  "  She  's  gone  to  Mr.  Larkin's  farm." 

"Vat!  vat  do  you  say  ?" 

"  I  says  wot  I  says.  Wot 's  hup  wiv  yer  ? "  de- 
manded Vardy,  as  he  watched  Herr  Habenichts 
hurrying  out  by  the  gate. 

He  walked  towards  Wix's  Residential  Hotel  as  fast 
as  the  fog  allowed  him.  He  was  not  certain  whether 
he  should  at  once  communicate  with  Monty  Marduke, 
or  first  ask  the  advice  of  Mr.  Botolph.  But  his  hesi- 
tation ceased  when  he  met  Wurm,  the  waiter,  on  the 
steps.  In  voluble  German,  Wurm  told  him  to  hurry 


292         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

in,  because  a  woman  or  a  girl  had  been  impatiently 
telephoning  at  intervals  during  the  last  three-quarters 
of  an  hour.  The  telephone  bell,  in  fact,  rang  again. 

"  Mein  Gott,  a  vemale  ? "  asked  Herr  Habenichts, 
out  of  breath,  and  putting  his  ear  to  the  instrument. 

"  Speak  slow !  "  he  implored.  "  Are  you  dere  ? 
Vat?  I  not  onderstand.  Hold  de  line!  Dorrie? 
You  are  Dorrie  ?  Vat  is  wrong  ?  You  are  trembling. 
You  veep  ?  Mein  Gott,  I  haf  just  been  at  de  Larkin 
yard,  and  was  told  you  go  to  Essex.  Someone  run 
avay  vith  you  ?  Vat  ?  " 

Dorothy  was  explaining  where  she  was,  and  why 
she  was  there,  and  then  she  began  to  tell,  all  palpitat- 
ingly, of  her  terror  of  Swening,  her  fear  of  Larkin, 
for  fear  of  Marduke,  her  determination  to  escape  like 
a  hunted  thing,  her  desire  of  Herr  Habenichts'  pro- 
tection, her  belief  in  his  goodness,  and  her  hope  that 
he  would  come  instantly  to  her  aid. 

"  Ach  so,"  replied  Herr  Habenichts,  having  ordered 
Wurm  out  of  the  room.  "  Poor  girl,  I  hear  you  veep- 
ing ;  de  telephone  tells  you  veep.  Kein,  do  not  veep. 
I  kom.  Dis  minute  I  start,  and  kom  as  qvick  as  de 
fog  allows.  You  say  you  are  vrightened  for  Marduke, 
too?" 

"  Yes,"  whispered  Dorrie  down  the  wire.  "  I 
don't  know  what  to  do,  Herr  Habenichts.  I  am 
frightened  for  them  all.  I  almost  jumped  into  the 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         293 

"  Say  again  where  you  are,"  said  Herr  Habenichts ; 
and  she  described  the  exact  spot  in  Blackfriars. 

"  Vait  den !  "  he  cried.  "  I  kom  qvick.  Good-bye. 
Ah,  you  veep  still,  de  leetle  tancer,  meine  kleino 
Tanzerin,  I  kom,  I  kom." 

He  told  Wunn  to  whistle  for  a  taxicab,  and  then 
he  ran  upstairs,  looked  into  Swefling's  room,  which 
was  next  his  own,  and  found  it  empty.  With  delib- 
eration, mixed  with  hurry,  he  dressed  himself  in  the 
evening  suit  which  his  recent  prosperity  had  enabled 
him  to  purchase,  and  which  he  had  worn  on  the  gala 
night  at  Jellini's.  And  he  took  from  a  morocco 
leather  case  the  one  precious  thing  from  which, 
through  all  his  misfortunes,  he  had  refused  to  part. 
It  was  a  cross  set  in  brilliants,  which  he  had  received 
for  a  brave  act  in  Herzegovina,  when  he  was  a  lieu- 
tenant of  hussars  in  the  Austrian  Army.  He  fixed 
it  in  his  evening  coat,  put  on  his  overcoat,  and  blessed 
Providence  that  he  had  also,  in  a  moment  of  folly  and 
re-awakened  vanity,  bought  a  crush  hat.  Then  he 
descended  the  stair,  and  knew  that  Wurm  was  looking 
with  astonishment  on  his  magnificence. 

"  Ja,  Wurm,"  he  said,  "  I  vill  be  late.  Give  me 
de  key.  Do  not  vait  up,  poor  boy,  you  are  tired." 

Wurm,  who  adored  him,  saw  him  into  the  taxicab. 
The  fog  seemed  to  be  less  dense. 

"  Go  qvick,"  ordered  Herr  Habenichts  —  "  at  least 
as  qvick  as  the  fog  allows.  I  vill  pay  you  veil." 


294         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

Then  he  took  his  seat  in  a  very  majestic  fashion, 
and  kept  staring  into  the  fog. 

"  Wen  all  my  debt  is  paid,"  he  said  to  himself, 
while  the  taxicab  went  somewhat  recklessly  ahead, 
"I  haf  twenty-seven  pounds  in  dis  world.  Ach  ja! 
but  de  future  is  de  great  pank  vor  us  all.  De  past 
should  be  de  savings  pank.  But  I  have  saved 
noting !  " 

It  seemed  that  an  hour  had  passed  before  the  taxi- 
cab,  after  numerous  twistings  and  stoppings,  slowed 
down  before  a  dim  doorway  in  Blackfriars.  On  the 
threshold  stood  a  timorous  girl  peering  into  the  dark, 
fantastic  street,  and  then  she  came  running  across  the 
pavement.  Herr  Habenichts  was  soon  patting  her  on 
the  back,  and  telling  her  "  not  to  veep  "  because  she 
was  safe.  In  sudden  terror  at  the  thought  of  his  im- 
minent poverty  he  had  dismissed  the  taxicab  after 
having  paid  a  liberal  fare.  But  now  he  regretted  that 
he  had  dismissed  it.  He  led  Dorothy  back  to  the 
doorway. 

"  I  haf  a  plan,  vondervoll,"  he  said,  and  stood  deep 
in  thought 

When  she  asked  him  where  he  was  going  to  take 
her,  he  smiled  and  said  — 

"  Kom  vith  me.  We  vill  valk  till  we  vind  anoder 
cab.  De  fog  lifts.  I  see  a  star." 

But  he  stopped  under  the  light  of  a  great  electric 
street  lamp.  He  looked  into  her  girlish  frightened 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         295 

face,  saw  the  violet  eyes  fill  with  tears  again,  and 
watched  the  twitching  of  the  fine  mouth,  and  the 
expression  of  fear  contracting  all  the  features. 

"  Mein  Gott !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  you  are  taller  dan 
I  am.  I  alvays  saw  de  vine  blood  in  you.  Never 
vear  any  more.  All  koms  right.  Ach  ja !  de  heart  of 
de  leetle  tancer  beat  so  fast!  But  never  vear  any 
more.  Vat  a  bright  dawn  breaks  vor  you !  Der  Auf- 
gang  der  Sonne  der  Liebe!  Now  tell  me  vat  you 
mean.  You  say  you  are  avraid  of  Marduke.  Vat 
does  it  mean  ?  You  must  tell  me  before  I  go  one  step 
more." 

Dorothy  turned  her  head  from  the  light,  and  began 
to  weep  bitterly. 

"  Oh,  nein,  nein,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  patting 
her  little  hand,  "  you  are  wrong.  He  search  vor  you. 
He  love  you.  He  marry  you.  Such  a  Liebe.  I  haf 
never  seen  de  like.  Young  Marduke  search  and  search 
vor  you.  Avraid  of  him  ?  Ja,  sometimes  great  love 
and  great  fear  are  very  close  togeder.  And  Love  and 
Death  are  very  close  togeder.  All  life  and  all  love  is 
very  great  mystery.  But  you,  my  leetle  tancer,  are 
going  to  be  vat  Beethoven  called  die  unsterbliche  Oe- 
liebte,  de  immortal  loved  one !  " 

Bewildered  and  strangely  agitated,  Dorothy  looked 
into  his  grey  kind  eyes,  and  he  smiled  reassuringly. 
He  was  a  man  in  whom  all  passion  had  become 
compassion. 


296         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

"  Kom,"  he  said,  "  it  is  a  fairy's  tale.  Der  is  more. 
Be  bold  and  trust  me." 

The  lights  were  burning  brighter  in  the  Strand, 
and  it  was  ten  minutes  past  eleven  o'clock  when  Herr 
Habenichts  hailed  another  taxicab,  and  ordered  the 
chauffeur  to  drive  to  the  residence  of  Arabella, 
Duchess  of  Berkshire,  in  Grosvenor  Square.  For  it 
will  be  remembered  that  in  Mrs.  Wix's  parlour  he  had 
questioned  Monty  Marduke  as  to  where  the  dowager 
lived.  When  Dorothy  asked  him  where  they  were 
going,  he  said,  "  Vait.  It  is  difficult,"  and  then  he  fell 
into  a  sort  of  reverie  out  of  which  she  dared  not 
attempt  to  rouse  him. 


CHAPTER   NINETEENTH 

THE  dowager  was  giving  a  dance,  small  and  early, 
which  was  preceded  by  a  dinner  at  which  two  am- 
bassadors were  expected  to  set  the  table  in  a  titter  by 
displays  of  ambassadorial  wit.  Arabella  abhorred  a 
babel  of  unconnected  talk,  and  therefore  her  dinner 
guests  were  few.  She  sought  to  revive  the  methods 
of  the  French  salon,  where  good  talkers  made  con- 
tributions to  a  single  theme.  Therefore  she  used  her 
seven  or  nine  or  eleven  guests  as  shuttles  and  spindles 
for  weaving  from  one  side  to  the  other  the  glittering 
fabric  of  conversation.  Mere  gossip,  mere  personal 
details  were  never  encouraged  unless  some  piquant 
view  of  character  and  circumstance  could  be  got  out 
of  them.  She  loved  to  surround  herself  by  a  few 
illuminati  and  her  intimate  wits  of  both  sexes.  Mon- 
sieur Dumaresq,  for  instance,  found  an  admirable 
foil  in  Lady  Lormington,  and  the  beautiful  Diana 
Melmore  shed  soft  glances  and  subtle  words  on  men 
like  Sir  Philip  Delancey  and  Count  Stein.  In  defi- 
ance of  tepid  conventions,  Arabella  used  to  initiate 
unconventional  talk.  She  was  even  not  afraid  of  the 

clash  of  temperaments  and  the  heat  generated  by  dis- 

297 


298         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

cussions  which  threatened,  but  only  threatened,  now 
and  again  to  pass  beyond  the  limits  of  the  urbane. 

"  There  are  two  things  I  dislike,"  said  Monsieur 
Dumaresq,  "  the  suburban  and  the  suburbane." 

Nevertheless,  he  was  once  guilty  of  too  great  a  rise 
of  mental  temperature  in  a  prolonged  duel  with  a 
brilliant  opponent  whom  at  last  he  tossed  with  a  snarl. 

The  dowager  gently  chided  him  in  the  privacy  of 
her  boudoir,  and  said  that  he  was  an  intellectual 
picador.  "But,"  she  added,  with  a  reproving  shake 
of  her  grey  curls,  "  it  looked  more  like  a  bullfight, 
and,  mon  cher,  conversation  is  not  a  bullfight." 

But  her  guests  generally  came  away  happy  with  the 
feeling  that  their  reputations  had  been  enhanced,  and 
with  the  hope  that  some  of  their  mots  might  become 
current  coin  of  the  realm  of  wit,  and  that  the  author's 
name  would  be  stamped  upon  it.  Thus  it  was  at  the 
Berkshire  dinners  that  most  of  Monsieur  Dumaresq's 
best  things  were  first  heard.  It  was  he  who  divided 
mankind  into  latitudinarians  and  platitudinarians, 
and  he  claimed  priority  for  the  remark  that  philoso- 
phers are  either  utilitarians  or  futilitarians.  He  took 
himself  seriously  as  a  humorist.  Someone  having 
said  that  a  certain  statesman,  who  was  rather  coarse 
than  cultured,  was  "  original,"  "  Yes,"  retorted  Mon- 
sieur Dumaresq,  "  so  original  that  he  is  aboriginal." 

Lady  Lormington  and  the  Marquis  de  la  Boverie, 
Lady  Desney  and  Count  Stein  were  once  more  in- 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         299 

dulging  in  well-bred  laughter  over  this  witticism,  and 
Lady  Lormington  reminded  the  dowager  of  it.  Mon- 
sieur Dumaresq  had  been  honoured  as  usual  by  a  seat 
on  his  hostess's  left. 

"  Ah,"  said  Arabella,  "  so  original  as  to  be  aborig- 
inal. It  is  worthy  of  La  Rochefoucauld.  I  hope  that 
you  did  not  mean  me  ?  " 

Monsieur  Dumaresq  bowed  his  negative  to  the 
imperious  curls  which  made  some  people  think  that 
their  owner  was  the  most  bewitching  old  woman  in 
London.  She  rather  enjoyed  her  reputation  for  orig- 
inality. She  could  risk  much  with  impunity.  Her 
vivacity  and  sexagenarian  energy  were  such  that  her 
friends  forgot  to  look  for  those  wrinkles  which,  as 
Monsieur  Dumaresq  said,  are  the  italics  of  Time. 
She  had  carried  on  the  Berkshire  and  the  Swaffham 
traditions,  and  had  been  able  to  outshine  the  other 
representatives  of  both  families  who  played  no  role  on 
the  more  intellectual  levels  of  London  society. 

"  A  title,  without  anything  interesting  behind  it, 
my  dear  Lady  Lormington,"  she  said,  "  is  only  a 
title." 

Therefore  any  man  of  learning  or  of  wit,  if  also 
of  breeding,  hereditary  or  acquired,  was  welcomed  at 
her  house,  because  new  friendships  interested,  almost 
excited  her.  Monsieur  Dumaresq  had  the  privilege, 
of  which  he  frequently  availed  himself,  of  introduc- 
ing his  friends.  For  Arabella,  like  an  astronomer, 


300         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

gazed  at  the  starry  heavens  of  society,  in  the  hope  of 
discovering  a  new  planet  for  her  galaxy. 

"  I  will  not  be  bored"  she  said.  "  When  I  meet 
two  bores,  I  make  them  entertain  each  other." 

"  I  notice,"  said  Monsieur  Dumaresq,  "  that  you 
like  to  change  your  sphere  and  your  atmosphere." 

"  He  is  an  epigrammatist  in  five  languages," 
said  the  dowager,  turning  to  the  Marquis  de  la 
Boverie. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Marquis,  "Monsieur  Du- 
maresq's  mind  is  a  great  argosy  of  ideas." 

"  Very  respectable  persons,"  observed  Monsieur 
Dumaresq,  "  are  all  ballast  and  no  cargo,  and  that, 
too,  is  the  explanation  of  dull  books." 

He  then  began  to  speak  of  the  "  litter  of  modern 
literature,"  said  that  the  soi-disant  realism  is  "  the 
fullest  and  also  the  foulest  account  of  life,"  and  that 
much  of  its  composition  might  be  called  decomposi- 
tion. "  Ah !  "  he  ended,  "  we  are  waiting  for  the 
actinic  rays  of  genius." 

While  the  listeners  were  spellbound,  Monsieur 
Dumaresq  removed  his  eyeglass,  and  his  shaven  face 
was  seen  to  be  lean  and  pale  as  if  with  the  fever  of 
thought.  It  was  this  moment  which  Diana  Melmore 
chose  for  making  a  most  unfortunate  faux  pas.  She 
asked  the  hostess  if  Monty  Marduke  was  in  town, 
and  it  is  said  that  immediately  a  faint  blush  became 
visible  on  her  face.  It  had  been  long  suspected  that 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         301 

she  was  one  of  the  numerous  girls  in  despair  about 
Monty.  "Waiting  women,"  the  dowager  called  them. 

"  Monty  Marduke  ?  I  do  not  know,"  replied  the 
dowager,  and  turned  again  to  the  Marquis  de  la 
Boverie. 

Lord  Percy  Boscoigne's  recent  suicide  was  men- 
tioned, and  Monsieur  Dumaresq  was  glad  because  he 
had  a  phrase  on  suicide. 

"  Some  of  us,"  he  said,  as  if  the  thought  had  just 
struck  him,  "  commit  suicide  by  living  on." 

"  Poor  Percy,"  said  the  Marquis  de  la  Boverie, 
"  was  badly  brought  up.  He  dressed  shockingly.  It 
was  astonishing,  but  he  never  seemed  to  see  that  a 
polished  boot  is  as  important  as  a  polished  wit." 

Like  Whistler  and  Disraeli,  and  all  cunning  and 
expert  professional  conversationalists,  Monsieur  Du- 
maresq possessed  the  skill  of  diverting  any  conversa- 
tion to  the  lines  which  he  desired,  and  he  became  im- 
patient with  M.  de  la  Boverie.  On  that  evening  he 
particularly  desired  that  the  word  "asparagus"  should 
be  mentioned,  and  also  that  someone  should  say  some- 
thing about  the  supposed  decline  of  Great  Britain 
and  the  weakness  of  her  Army.  For  he  had  a  mot 
both  on  asparagus  and  on  Great  Britain.  He  glanced 
at  the  menu,  and  to  his  double  satisfaction,  gastric  as 
well  as  mental,  he  discovered  that  asparagus  was  to 
be  served.  And  so,  when  everyone  was  eating  it,  he 
turned  to  the  dowager,  and  said  — 


302         THE    OLD    DA^CE    MASTER 

"It  is  with  men  as  with  asparagus.  The  most 
important  thing  is  the  head." 

A  nattering  titter  followed  the  remark,  and  Mon- 
sieur Dumaresq  was  very  happy,  but  he  was  already 
longing  to  hear  the  German  peril  mentioned.  And  lo, 
at  last  it  came  from  Sir  Philip  Delancey  and  Count 
Stein. 

"  Well,"  said  Monsieur  Dumaresq,  seizing  the 
occasion  of  an  advantageous  pause,  "  we  who  are  the 
friends  of  England  hope  that  Britannia's  sword  is 
not  made  of  Britannia  metal." 

The  dowager,  amid  a  chorus  of  soft  laughter, 
tapped  him  approvingly  with  her  closed  fan,  and 
said  — 

"  C'est  superbe." 

It  was  admitted  by  everyone  that  Monsieur  Du- 
maresq had  surpassed  his  own  record,  and  as  a  com- 
pliment to  him  Count  Stein  remarked  that  he  would 
rather  meet  a  millionaire  in  ideas  than  a  millionaire. 
But  when  the  scene  changed  to  the  drawing-room  and 
the  dancing,  Monsieur  Dumaresq  had  scarcely  as 
favourable  an  opportunity  for  display.  He  danced 
no  more.  He  contented  himself  with  gazing  critically 
through  his  highly  polished  eyeglass  at  the  handsome 
younger  generation,  or  in  chatting  with  the  few  elder 
guests,  who,  like  himself,  had  grown  stiff  with  the 
years. 

"  Mon  Dieu,"  he  whispered  to  Lady  Lormington, 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         303 

"  all  these  young  people  are  lovers.  Love  is  carniv- 
orous. In  my  book  of  maxims,  I  wrote  down  a  phrase 
the  other  day.  It  is  this  —  *  Passion  is  the  unexpur- 
gated  edition  of  love,  and  expurgated  editions  are 
not  bought.'  " 

Lady  Lormington  congratulated  him,  and  said  that 
it  was  good  to  hold  frozen  hands  before  the  warm  fire 
of  youth. 

Now  it  was  in  this  glowing  and  flippant  scene 
that  Herr  Habenichts  made  his  apparition  at  half- 
past  eleven  o'clock.  Mr.  Botolph  used  to  say  that 
Herr  Habenichts  was  a  man  of  common  sense  and 
uncommon  taste,  and  that  he  could  be  trusted  to  do  the 
right  thing  in  whatever  situation  he  found  himself. 
He  was  perfectly  aware  of  the  audacity  of  the  plan 
whereby  he  hoped  to  bring  the  little  orphan  under 
the  protection  of  a  very  high  dame.  But  he  had  con- 
fidence in  his  own  tact  and  tactics.  He  had  dressed 
himself  carefully  because  he  expected  that  in  so  great 
a  house  a  reception  probably  took  place  almost  every 
evening.  That,  too,  was  the  reason  why,  in  obedience 
to  the  one  little  pardonable  vanity  which  still  lurked 
in  him,  he  had  donned  his  precious  order  in  brilliants 
with  the  clasp.  He  thought,  in  his  foreign  way,  that 
it  would  be  a  kind  of  credential,  and  although  he 
laughed  quietly  at  the  world's  showmen  and  their 
shows,  he  knew  how  to  make  use  on  occasion  of  the 
irnpressionableness  of  mankind.  Moreover,  in  any 


304:         THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 

case  his  act  was  going  to  be  wholly  disinterested,  and 
he  was  that  rare  man  who  has  a  positive  delight  in 
the  happiness  of  other  people.  In  his  early  youth  in 
Vienna  he  had  moved  in  the  same  society  which 
claimed  property  in  Monsieur  Dumaresq,  and  the 
strange  disasters  of  later  life  had  not  effaced  his  good 
breeding  and  his  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things.  There 
was  something  in  his  look  of  assurance  and  ease 
which  caused  all  doors  to  be  opened  to  him,  and  there- 
fore the  dowager's  footman  saw  nothing  amiss  when 
he  ascended  the  baize-covered  steps,  and  entered  the 
house.  But  it  was  with  a  shock  of  surprise  that  they 
looked  at  the  companion  on  his  arm,  and  remarked 
her  blue  serge  dress,  fur  boa,  and  beaver  hat.  In  a 
moment  Herr  Habenichts  knew  that  a  dance  reception 
was  being  held,  and  it  was  with  delight  that  he  heard 
dance  music  being  played  by  a  superb  band  in  the 
upper  corridor.  The  sumptuous  house  was  aglow  with 
lights  and  liveried  footmen,  and  the  air  was  deli- 
cately and  subtly  laden  with  the  aroma  of  many  a 
perfumed  skirt  that  had  passed  in.  A  tall,  distin- 
guished youth  was  accompanying  up  the  great  stair- 
way a  lovely  creature  in  a  flowing  dress  of  yellow 
brocade.  Dorothy  stood  stupefied.  But  Herr  Habe- 
nichts, undaunted,  addressed  a  servant,  and  told  him 
to  conduct  the  forlorn  little  lady  to  a  room,  which  he 
guessed  was  unused,  at  the  far  end  of  the  hall.  In 
fact,  it  was  the  breakfast-room  the  door  of  which  was 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         305 

half  open.  The  footman  obeyed,  and  when  other  ser- 
vants had  relieved  Herr  Habenichts  of  his  hat  and 
overcoat  he  ascended  the  stair,  and  when  he  arrived 
on  the  upper  landing  he  gave  his  name.  Being 
ashamed  of  his  English,  which  he  had  never  been 
able  to  make  perfect,  he  decided  to  speak  French,  of 
which  he  was  a  master,  so  that  we  shall  translate  all 
that  he  said  throughout  that  amazing  evening. 

In  a  dress  of  black  velvet  and  old  point  lace  the 
dowager  was  receiving  her  guests  at  the  east  door  of 
the  first  drawing-room.  A  graceful  diamond  tiara 
surmounted  the  famous  grey  curls,  and  seemed  to 
lend  them  even  more  than  their  usual  animation. 
Herr  Habenichts  stopped  for  a  moment  to  adjust  his 
order  in  brilliants,  and  then  he  heard  the  strains  of 
the  Italian  waltz  Tesoro  Mio  and  through  a  door  he 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  dance.  By  this  time  he  had 
assumed  an  air  of  considerable  majesty,  and  some 
guests,  sitting  among  the  flowers  in  the  vestibule, 
asked  each  other  who  the  distinguished  man  might  be. 
He  approached  the  dowager,  who  recognised  neither 
his  face  nor  his  name.  And  it  was  lucky  that  Mon- 
sieur Dumaresq  was  standing  beside  her,  with  eyeglass 
duly  mounted  under  his  right  eyebrow. 

"  Ah,  c'est  vous,  Habenichts ! "  exclaimed  Monsieur 
Dumaresq,  as  Arabella  shook  hands  with  the  stranger, 
who,  she  supposed,  was  another  of  the  friends  whom 
Monsieur  Dumaresq  was  privileged  to  bring. 


306    THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

Herr  Habenichts  acquitted  himself  admirably, 
and  after  he  had,  in  Austrian  fashion,  kissed  the 
dowager's  hand,  and  had  moved  forwards  to  make 
room  for  new  arrivals,  he  was  seized  upon  by  Mon- 
sieur Dumaresq,  who  asked  him  how  many  centuries 
had  passed  since  they  had  been  together  in  Vienna. 
Much  surprised,  and  more  delighted,  Herr  Habe- 
nichts made  skilful  use  of  the  lucky  encounter, 
and  retained  his  ease  and  happy  humour  as  Mon- 
sieur Dumaresq  took  him  among  the  Lormington 
group. 

"  Ah,  I  remember  this,"  said  Monsieur  Dumaresq, 
fingering  the  military  cross.  "  You  know,  Lady  Lor- 
mington, he  got  it  for  a  brave  something  or  other 
he  did  during  the  war  in  Herzegovina.  The  papers 
were  full  of  him  for  weeks.  He  is  an  edition  de  luxe 
of  humanity.  Have  n't  you  read  his  '  History  of 
Dancing '  ?  It  will  be  known  in  every  capital  of 
Europe." 

"  Mais  non,  Dumaresq !  "  said  Herr  Habenichts. 

"  Mais  oui,  cher  Habenichts,"  replied  Monsieur 
Dumaresq.  "  The  most  learned  thing  ever  written. 
Ah,  of  course,  Habenichts,  that 's  why  you  have 
come  here.  That  pretty  picture  should  please  you." 

Monsieur  Dumaresq  pointed  to  the  dancers,  and 
then  moved  back  to  his  position  near  the  dowager, 
to  whom  he  said  — 

"  Habenichts  is  an  edition  de  luxe  of  humanity." 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER    307 

"  They  are  rare,"  said  the  dowager ;  "  I  am  de- 
lighted to  have  him." 

Herr  Habenichts  had  dropped  into  fairyland,  for 
nothing  made  him  happier  than  a  dancing  scene. 
He  seemed  to  himself  to  be  transported  to  the  Court 
Ball  of  Vienna,  where,  as  a  hussar  in  glittering  uni- 
form, he  had  danced  his  youth  away.  And  this 
light  and  laughter  and  movement  around  him 
brought  back  the  memory  of  his  own  humiliation,  of 
patrimony  lost  for  ever,  of  the  dark  scowl  of  fate 
and  fortune  which  had  followed  him  till  now,  and 
it  momentarily  saddened  him.  But  he  astonished 
Lady  Lormington  and  Lady  Desney  and  Sir  Philip 
Delancey  by  his  expert  criticism  of  the  dancers. 
During  three-quarters  of  an  hour  he  engaged  in 
pleasant  talk  and  persiflage  in  French,  and  was  so 
delighted  with  the  dancing  and  the  music  that  Doro- 
thy was  in  danger  of  being  forgotten.  For  he  was 
expounding  his  theory  of  rhythmic  movement  to 
Lady  Lormington,  who  at  a  convenient  moment 
whispered  to  the  dowager  as  she  passed  — 

"  Who  is  this  most  interesting  old  grand  seigneur !  " 

"  Monsieur  Dumaresq,"  replied  the  dowager,  "  saya 
that  he  is  an  edition  de  luxe  of  humanity." 

"  I  wonder  if  that  is  Monsieur  Dumaresq's  own 
phrase  ?  "  said  Lady  Lormington. 

"  In  any  case  it  appears  to  be  true,"  said  the 
dowager,  smiling  back  pleasantly  to  Herr  Habe- 


308         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

nichts,    and    then   moving   on   to    speak   to   Count 
Stein. 

Meanwhile,  however,  there  was  creeping  over  the 
intruder  an  uncomfortable  feeling,  and  he  began  to 
be  amazed  at  his  own  audacity.  Every  moment  he 
expected  to  see  Dorothy  in  serge  dress,  fur  boa,  and 
beaver  hat  present  herself  among  the  dancers.  He 
was  glad  that  the  dowager  had  as  yet  said  little  to 
him,  and  that  Monsieur  Dumaresq  was  apparently 
ignorant  of  the  strange  experiences  of  his  friend 
since  last  they  had  met  in  Vienna.  And  Herr  Habe- 
nichts  was  afraid  that  if  it  became  suddenly  re- 
vealed to  that  gay  company  that  he  was  the  pro- 
prietor of  The  Original  Jellini  Academy  of  Dancing, 
he  would  be  riddled  with  ridicule,  and  turned  out 
as  an  impostor.  The  only  plan  was  to  seek  an  in- 
terview with  the  Duchess  Dowager.  But  she  looked 
so  magnificent,  and  such  a  haughty  glance  was  burn- 
ing in  her  eyes,  that  he  began  to  shrink  from  the 
encounter.  He  guessed  her  scorn  when  she  had 
heard  of  his  mission  and  had  discovered  who  he  was. 
Besides,  it  would  in  any  case  be  a  breach  of  etiquette 
for  a  guest  who  had  been  introduced  only  on  that 
evening  to  be  the  last  to  leave  the  house.  Luckily, 
dancing  was  to  stop  at  twelve,  because  Arabella  was 
no  longer  able  or  willing  to  sustain  the  fatigue  of 
late  hours.  Some  of  the  dancers  were  already  on 
their  way  to  join  other  hostesses.  The  rooms  were 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         309 

emptying.  Monsieur  Dumaresq  had  gone,  and  on 
the  staircase  there  was  a  subdued  hubbub  of  depart- 
ing guests  whose  carriages  and  motor  cars  had  not 
yet  been  called.  The  music  had  ceased,  and  it  was 
in  a  condition  of  increasing  anxiety  that  Herr  Habe- 
nichts  found  himself  solitary  in  the  west  drawing- 
room.  Arabella  was  standing  at  the  east  door,  chat- 
ting with  some  of  the  lingerers,  but  at  length  she 
said  good-night  to  the  last  of  them.  Heir  Habe- 
nichts  would  have  liked  to  run  down  to  inquire  about 
the  hapless  girl.  Perhaps  she  had  fled  ?  He  entered 
the  east  drawing-room,  and  saw  Arabella,  tall  and 
stately,  with  the  jewelled  train  of  her  dress  flowing 
behind  her,  advancing  to  meet  him. 

"  Ah,  Duchesse,"  said  Herr  Habenichte,  "  I  could 
not  help  looking  at  those  pictures.  This  is  a  Greuze  ? 
Ah,  this  charming  Meissonierl  And  the  Ingres, 
too!" 

"  Yes,"  she  said.  "  I  am  sorry  I  have  seen  so  little 
of  you.  There  were  too  many  people  here.  I  am 
sorry,  too,  that  Monsieur  Dumaresq  has  gone." 

Arabella  was  eager  to  examine  an  edition  de  luxe 
of  humanity,  and  she  invited  Herr  Habenichts  to 
supper.  With  her  sexagenarian  laugh  she  said  that 
music  and  the  play  and  watching  dancing  made  her 
hungry. 

"  Ah,  there  is  Mr.  Loxley  not  yet  gone !  "  she 
exclaimed  in  French,  as  a  young  man  with  dreamy 


310         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

eyes  came  into  the  room.  "  Mr.  Loxley,  Herr  Habe- 
nichts  and  I  are  going  to  have  supper.  Now,  won't 
you  give  me  the  pleasure  —  " 

Mr.  Loxley,  who  was  somewhat  shy,  and  whose 
French  was  rickety,  asked  to  be  forgiven,  said  good 
night,  and  disappeared.  Herr  Habenichts  felt  his 
equanimity  returning,  and  offered  his  arm  to  his 
hostess  as  they  descended  to  the  supper-room.  They 
were  soon  sitting  at  a  little  table  on  which  candles 
with  pink  shades  were  burning.  It  was  this  sort  of 
sudden  improvisation  of  friendships  which  gave  Ara- 
bella the  name  of  the  unconventional  duchess.  Like 
Madame  du  Deffand,  she  was  eager  to  seize  upon 
anyone  who  could  afford  her  a  new  intellectual  thrill, 
and  for  the  moment  Herr  Habenichts  became  her 
Horace  Walpole.  The  butler  was  serving  Chateau 
Lafite,  vintage  1858,  and  his  subordinates  moved 
noiselessly  at  their  tasks.  The  dowager  was  talking 
about  Monsieur  Dumaresq. 

"  He  is  a  cynic,"  she  said. 

"  Cynicism,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  in  idiomatic 
French,  "  is  frozen  truth.  But,  Duchess,  the  great 
books  have  the  temperature  of  this  wine,  I  mean  its 
inner,  latent  temperature.  Ha,  ha,  on  dit,  good  wine 
has  a  body,  but  it  has  also,  like  a  good  book,  a 
soul." 

He  was  so  fond  of  abandoning  himself  to  the  im- 
pressions of  the  moment,  so  eager  to  become  absorbed 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER         311 

in  whatever  the  present  brought  him,  that  Dorothy- 
was  again  in  danger  of  being  forgotten.  Herr  Habe- 
nichts  began  to  feel  as  if  he  could  talk  till  cock-crow. 
He  spoke  about  the  vineyards  of  France  with  ap- 
parently profound  knowledge,  and  then  of  the  life 
of  the  vine,  the  wonderful  plant  which  accepts  even 
the  poorest  soil  which  common  weeds  disdain.  The 
dowager  was  enthralled  as  he  described  the  origin 
and  spread  of  the  vine  myth  and  the  vine  worship 
out  of  Asia.  From  the  vintage  of  France  he  passed 
to  the  more  wonderful  vintage  of  her  genius  as 
expressed  in  her  literature,  and  all  at  once  he  found 
himself  discussing  Villon  and  Verlaine,  whom  he 
called  the  two  great  poets  of  poverty. 

"  And  Richepin,"  added  the  dowager. 

"  Yes,  he  is  great,  and  also  the  German  Rilke," 
said  Herr  Habenichts.  "  These  men  have  seen  that 
poverty  has  a  kind  of  grandeur,  Duchess.  And  you, 
too,  know  it.  I  have  seen  you  mentioned  in  the 
newspapers  as  the  Democratic  Duchess." 

Now,  if  there  was  one  thing  of  which  she  was 
proud,  it  was  the  absurd  title  of  Democratic  Duchess, 
the  origin  of  which  was  as  follows:  — 

During  a  march  of  the  unemployed  through  the 
streets  of  London,  a  halt  was  made  before  the  door 
of  the  house  in  which  Herr  Habenichts  was  actually 
sitting.  When  the  Duchess  looked  down  from  the 
window  of  her  boudoir,  she  saw  a  crowd  of  ragged 


312         THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER 

and  angry  men  with  menacing  banners.  Nothing 
daunted,  she  stepped  on  the  balcony,  and  made  a 
little  speech  in  which  she  expressed  her  sympathy 
for  them,  and  especially  for  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren. Then  she  ordered  the  collecting-box  to  be  sent 
up  to  her,  and  with  her  own  hand  she  dropped  into 
it  a  cheque  for  four  hundred  pounds.  When  the 
fact  became  known,  the  air  was  rent  by  loud  cheers 
and  cries  for  "  Good  ole  Arabella !  Well  done,  ole 
gal !  "  And  henceforward  she  was  called  the  Demo- 
cratic Duchess.  Herr  Habenichts  rather  suspected 
that  the  veneer  and  varnish  of  democracy  were  very 
thin.  Nevertheless,  he  reminded  her  of  the  inci- 
dent, and  she  was  pleased.  In  her  strange,  vivid 
old  eyes  he  seemed  to  see  a  latent  kindness,  as  well 
as  the  gleam  of  the  vanity  and  of  the  wisdom  of 
this  world. 

"  Well,  I  am  an  old  woman,"  she  said,  "  and  I 
have  seen  behind  the  fagade.  I  have  never  been 
quite  content  with  remaining  in  my  own  set.  Oh, 
it  is  like  sitting  still  in  your  own  parish  all  your 
life.  Not  long  ago  I  said  a  wrong  and  untrue  thing 
to  a  young  fellow  called  Marduke "  (Herr  Habe- 
nichts made  a  sudden  movement)  "  about  having  no 
friends  among  the  rabble.  It  is  nonsense.  I  love 
the  poor  and  the  outcast.  Ah,  if  I  were  a  states- 
man, I  would  mobilise  the  mob,  and  teach  it  citizen- 
ship, Herr  Habenichts.  I  once  had  a  long  conver- 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         313 

sation  with  Tolstoi.  It  was  at  Yasnaya  Polyana, 
and  he  was  digging  a  trench  in  a  field  to  carry- 
away  the  water.  He  leaned  on  his  spade  as  he 
spoke  to  me.  Oh,  it  was  wonderful!  He  made 
me  angry  with  the  stupid  glitter  of  the  rich.  And 
yet,  and  yet,  I  cant  give  up  art  and  music  and 
books  and  good  talk,  Herr  Habenichts.  And  so  will 
you  dine  here  next  Thursday?  I  expect  Monsieur 
Dumaresq  and  some  interesting  people." 

"  I  vorget ! "  exclaimed  Herr  Habenichts,  sud- 
denly, dropping  into  English,  as  if  more  suitable 
to  express  his  embarrassment.  "  I  must  tell  it  now. 
You  say  you  love  de  poor?  I  am  poor.  I  am  only 
a  vieux  maitre  de  danse !  " 

"  You  are  a  dancing  master  ?  "  said  the  dowager, 
incredulously  and  derisively. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied ;  and  then  turned  to  the  pom- 
pous old  butler,  "  Bring  in  de  lady.  Oh,  vat  haf  I 
been  tinking  about  all  dis  time !  " 

The  hostess  betrayed  the  slightest  symptom  of 
annoyance,  because  she  had  a  sudden  suspicion  that 
her  strange  guest  had  drunk  too  much  of  the  old 
subtle  wine  of  France,  She  bent  forward  in  an 
attitude  which  indicated  that  she  had  not  under- 
stood him,  and  she  began  to  fumble  for  her  lorgnette. 
Herr  Habenichts  seemed  perplexed,  and  his  ease 
had  forsaken  him  again.  And  presently  Dorothy 
was  standing  in  the  room,  pale  and  forlorn,  and 


314          THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

looking  like  a  tattered  thing  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
splendour,  while  the  dowager  fixed  upon  her  an 
astonished  stare. 

"  Ach  ja,  Duchesse,"  said  Herr  Habenichts,  rising 
and  patting  Dorothy  on  the  shoulder,  "  dis  is  de  poor 
leetle  girl.  Most  extraordinary  story.  You  vill  be 
kind  to  her,  Duchesse  ?  You  love  de  poor  and  de 
outcast  ? " 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  asked  Ara- 
bella. "Who  is  this?" 

"  Dis,"  explained  Herr  Habenichts,  with  his  old 
smile  again,  "  is  de  leetle  tancer  at  Jellini's,  and 
young  Mr.  Marduke  fall  in  love  vith  her." 

The  truth  had  flashed  upon  Arabella,  and  she  rose 
agitated  and  angry,  almost  fainting  with  rage,  and 
believing  that  Monty  Marduke  had  played  the  trick 
upon  her.  To  have  supped  with  a  dancing  master! 
To  have  been  made  ridiculous  by  a  dancing  master! 
To  have  had  to  face  this  odious  anticlimax  to  a 
brilliant  evening!  At  first  her  presence  of  mind 
forsook  her,  and  she  stood  ignorant  how  to  act,  until 
an  uncontrollable  impulse  made  her  order  the  ser- 
vants to  bring  a  detective.  But  no  sooner  was  the 
order  given  than  she  recalled  it,  and  then  she  com- 
manded the  servants  to  leave  the  room.  Herr 
Habenichts  was  speaking  again,  and  attempting  to 
apologise  for  his  intrusion.  In  fluent  French  and 
laboured  English  he  justified  his  action. 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         315 

"  I  haf  been  vaiting  de  opportunity  all  night,"  he 
said.  "  Ach  ja,  Democratic  Duchesse,  vill  you  not 
listen?  Vat  is  it  to  me?  I  gain  noting.  But  dis 
leetle  girl  gain  much.  It  is  de  Swaffham  blood 
calling  to  you,  de  leetle  castavay,  de  vriend  of  de 
Monty,  de  Earl's  love  child !  " 

He  then  informed  her  that  Monty  Marduke  had 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  their  presence  in  her 
house  that  night,  and  he  told  the  story  of  Dorothy's 
flight,  and  his  own  discovery  of  her  and  his  belief 
that  a  Democratic  Duchess  would  take  under  her 
protection  an  orphan  who,  after  all,  was  something 
of  a  kinswoman. 

"  De  Duchesse  is  your  aunt,"  he  said  to  Dorothy, 
who  stood  as  if  in  a  troubled  dream,  wondering 
whether  Herr  Habenichts  had  suddenly  gone  mad. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Arabella,  Duchess  of 
[Berkshire,  had  found  herself  at  bay.  Her  dominant 
feeling  was  resentment,  and  as  she  gave  way  to  it, 
she  ordered  Herr  Habenichts  to  leave  the  house.  But 
he  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  Duchesse,"  he  said,  in  a  quiet  persuasive 
way,  "not  until  you  promise  to  protect  her.  Oder- 
wise  I  must  take  her  avay.  Vat  could  I  do  but 
bring  her  here  ?  " 

The  discovery  that  she  had  been  at  supper  tete-d- 
ieie  with  a  dancing  master  was  not  the  only  irritating 
fact  in  the  situation.  To  endure  the  presence  of  this 


31G    THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER 

extraordinary  stranger  while  he  told  her  how  she 
should  act,  and  to  perceive  his  pity  for  the  hollow- 
ness  of  her  pretended  patronage  of  the  poor  and 
outcast,  made  her  nerves  rage  and  ache.  She  had 
waved  the  servants  from  the  room  in  order  to  avoid 
a  scene,  and  still  Herr  Habenichts  lingered  while 
the  haughty  woman  cast  glance  after  sharp  glance 
at  the  terrified  child.  Dorothy's  height  and  appear- 
ance, the  Swaffham  pride  lurking  undeveloped  in  all 
her  features,  her  silence,  her  obvious  innocence,  her 
magnificent  eyes  and  her  helplessness  were  neverthe- 
less making  a  singular  impression.  The  truth  was 
that  her  resemblance  to  her  father,  the  Earl  of 
Swaffham,  the  dowager's  favourite  nephew,  had 
stunned  the  dowager,  who  was  eager  to  get  rid  of 
Herr  Habenichts  in  order  to  compare  the  Earl's 
portrait  with  the  face  of  his  child.  Her  decision 
was  made,  but  she  was  still  too  proud  to  announce 
it.  After  a  few  moments  of  studied  pause  and  hesi- 
tation, and  after  another  keen  inspection  of  the  girl 
of  the  bright  dark  pedigree  who  was  standing  be- 
wildered before  her,  she  again  requested  Herr  Habe- 
nichts to  leave  the  house.  Dorothy  sprang  forward 
and  seized  his  hand,  indicating  that  she  meant  to 
go  with  him.  It  was  then  that  the  dowager  was 
heard  to  mutter  "  Poor  Gascoigne !  "  which  was  one 
of  the  Earl's  names.  She  had  promised  him  before 
he  had  left  England  that  she  would  be  kind  to  the 


THE  OLD  DANCE  MASTER    317 

child  of  his  wild  love.  But  she  had  ignored  Dome's 
existence. 

"  Ach  ja !  "  said  Heir  Habenichts,  coming  to  her 
aid.  "  I  see  you  vish  to  change.  De  leetle  child 
has  no  claim  upon  you.  Dat  is  why  you  vill  help 
her.  Vill  you  ?  " 

"  She  shall  remain  here,"  replied  the  dowager,  still 
with  an  aspect  of  sternness  which  she  compelled  her- 
self to  maintain. 

"  I  accept  de  word  of  a  Duchesse,"  said  Heir 
Habenichts,  bowing  himself  out,  and  restraining 
Dorothy  from  following.  "  Nein,  good-bye,  Dorrie. 
All  koms  right  I  haf  seen  de  end  and  de  end  is 
fair." 


CHAPTER   TWENTIETH 

MEANWHILE  a  family  council  was  being  held  at  Port- 
land Place.  That  much  learning  may  make  a  man 
mad  has  been  frequently  proved,  but  that  he  should 
be  judged  mad  because  of  much  generosity  is  a  catas- 
trophe of  rarer  occurrence.  Nevertheless,  this  was 
about  to  happen  to  Sir  John  Marduke,  whose  strange 
shame  concerning  the  origin  of  his  great  inheritance 
was  exhibited  in  an  earlier  chapter.  A  crisis  was 
at  hand,  and  two  famous  specialists,  Dr.  Puddifant 
and  Dr.  Paradarakovsky,  were  puzzling  over  the  case. 
They  pronounced  it  unique.  A  man,  they  said,  who 
had  created  a  great  fortune  by  dishonest  means,  who 
had  trampled  on  his  fellow  men  and  had  risen  on 
their  ruin,  might  conceivably  in  the  midst  of  his 
ill-gotten  luxury  be  hunted  and  haunted  by  disturb- 
ing memories.  But  that  a  man  like  Sir  John  Mar- 
duke  should  worry  himself  to  the  point  of  insanity 
four  generations  after  the  event  merely  at  the  thought 
that  every  penny  of  his  wealth  had  come  to  him 
from  the  sweat  and  labour  of  slaves  who  had  per- 
ished by  hundreds,  and  perhaps  by  thousands,  at  the 
hands  of  his  ancestors,  was  one  of  the  most  singu- 

318 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         319 

lar  facts  in  the  history  of  hallucination.  And  his 
method  of  expiating  this  supposed  crime  of  those  old 
Mardukes  was  itself  a  crime,  because  he  was  thereby 
robbing  his  son  and  successor  in  the  baronetcy  and 
also  his  daughter  of  the  patrimony  which  was  their 
due.  Jedder  and  Jedder,  the  family  solicitors,  said 
that  it  was  philanthropy,  it  was  charity,  it  was 
morality  gone  mad.  The  elder  Jedder  could  not 
sleep  for  thinking  of  it.  He  saw  an  estate  wasting 
away  before  his  eyes,  and  he  insisted  on  immediate 
interference  for  the  purpose  of  saving  the  poor  re- 
mainder and  debris  which  he  calculated  amounted 
to  four  hundred  and  sixty-eight  thousand  pounds 
seven  shillings  and  threepence.  .  It  was  with  a  law- 
yer's delight  and  sense  of  business  and  justice  that 
this  elder  Jedder  had  adjusted  his  spectacles  in  order 
to  fix  his  eyes  upon  his  clerk  to  whom  he  dictated 
that  letter  addressed  to  Herr  Habenichts,  which 
announced  the  withdrawal  of  Sir  John  Marduke's 
patronage  from  The  Original  Jellini  Academy  of 
Dancing,  and  the  calling  in  of  the  loan.  Herr  Habe- 
nichts had  already  refunded  the  loan  with  interest, 
although  interest  was  not  demanded,  and  he  had 
received  a  curt  letter  of  acknowledgment.  The  elder 
Jedder  hoped  that  this  solitary  instance  of  sternness 
and  grip  on  the  part  of  the  baronet  meant  the  cessa- 
tion of  a  mad  form  of  magnanimity.  Not  so.  Only 
the  other  day  Jedder  and  Jedder  had  been  ordered 


320         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

to  despatch  (1)  a  cheque  for  £50,000  in  aid  of  the 
abolition  of  the  so-called  slavery  in  the  Congo,  and 
(2)  a  cheque  for  £10,000  to  a  London  hospital.  In 
order  to  provide  these  sums  much  valuable  property, 
many  valuable  shares,  would  require  to  be  realised. 
And  it  was  before  entering  upon  the  transactions 
necessary  for  the  completion  of  this  business  that 
the  elder  Jedder  wrote  a  very  startling  letter  to  Mr. 
Monty  Marduke,  who  communicated  with  the  family 
physician,  Dr.  Minting,  who  in  turn  communicated 
with  Dr.  Puddifant  and  Dr.  Paradarakovsky,  the 
distinguished  alienists. 

Sir  John  was  examined,  and  then  the  elder  Jedder 
proposed  a  family  council.  Monty  and  Minnie 
agreed.  The  physicians  agreed.  Whether  it  was 
owing  to  the  baronet's  displeasure  with  his  son's  con- 
duct at  The  Original  Jellini  Academy  of  Dancing,  or 
whether  it  was  simply  owing  to  the  natural  evolution 
of  his  mania,  his  destructive  activities  directed  against 
the  family  property  were  once  more  in  eruption, 
and  threatened  to  have  no  end  until  the  property 
itself  came  to  an  end.  Even  his  daughter,  who  now 
led  a  secluded  and  somewhat  embittered  life  in  the 
great  mansion,  had  ceased  to  sympathise  with  these 
colossal  charities,  and,  although  disgusted  with  her 
brother,  she  decided  to  co-operate  with  him  for  the 
sake  of  their  joint  interests.  Therefore  the  family 
council  assembled.  Present:  Mr.  Marduke,  Miss 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         321 

Marduke,  the  elder  Jedder,  Dr.  Puddifant,  the  emi- 
nent English  brain  specialist,  Dr.  Paradarakovsky, 
his  eminent  foreign  rival,  and  Herr  Habenichts. 

The  presence  of  Herr  Habenichts  requires  some 
explanation.  Monty  Marduke,  while  perfectly  will- 
ing and  even  anxious  to  see  some  restriction  placed 
upon  his  father,  was  opposed  for  pathetic  and  filial 
reasons  to  any  declaration  of  mental  failure.  Now, 
the  fact  that  Sir  John  had  recalled  the  loan  which 
hacl  been  granted  to  the  proprietor  of  The  Original 
Jellini  Academy  of  Dancing  was  a  proof,  according 
to  Monty,  that  his  mental  capacity  was  unimpaired. 
Herr  Habenichts  was,  therefore,  invited  to  bear 
personal  testimony  before  the  two  doctors.  He  re- 
sponded at  once  to  the  call,  and  declared  that  it  was 
another  sign  of  the  excellent  character  of  his  charm- 
ing young  friend.  But  when  the  elder  Jedder  saw 
Herr  Habenichts  in  the  room,  he  gazed  at  him  through 
his  eyeglass,  and  was  incapable  of  concealing  his 
astonishment  and  his  contempt  for  a  dancer  who 
philosophised  or  a  philosopher  who  danced.  Having 
coughed,  he  proceeded  to  business,  not,  however,  with- 
out having  expressed  regret  at  the  unavoidable  ab- 
sence of  Dr.  Minting,  the  family  physician  who  had 
been  suddenly  called  to  an  urgent  case  in  the  country. 
Mr.  Jedder  then  made  startling  revelations  regarding 
the  present  condition  of  the  Marduke  property,  and 
from  a  schedule  he  read  out  a  list  of  the  baronet's 


322         THE    OLD    DANCE   MASTER 

charities  —  he  had  almost  said  delinquencies  —  dur- 
ing the  last  four  years.  The  total  cost  to  the  family 
of  his  generous  madness  or  mad  generosity  had  been 
four  hundred  and  seventy-eight  thousand  pounds  ten 
shillings  and  sixpence.  If  the  two  donations  of 
£50,000  for  the  Congo  slaves  and  £10,000  for  the 
London  hospital  were  withheld,  Mr.  Jedder  said 
that  the  value  of  the  estate  would  be  only  four  hun- 
dred and  sixty-eight  thousand  pounds  seven  shillings 
and  threepence.  Sir  John  had  thus  parted  with 
more  than  half  of  his  property. 

"  When  is  it  to  end  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Jedder,  as  he 
looked  at  the  specialists. 

Dr.  Puddifant,  a  big,  authoritative  person,  had  the 
appearance  of  a  man  who,  if  doubtful  about  the  sanity 
of  other  people,  was  perfectly  convinced  of  his  own. 
He  was  sixty  years  of  age,  with  a  red  face,  a  sharp, 
interrogating  eye,  and  a  mouth  as  hard  and  inex- 
pressive as  if  it  had  been  made  of  double-twisted 
wire.  He  secretly  —  sometimes  openly  —  despised 
his  learned  colleague,  Dr.  Paradarakovsky,  who  was 
steeped  in  philosophy,  and  had  published  a  book  on 
the  theme  whether  Nature  herself  might  not  go  mad. 
He  claimed  to  have  found  a  vein  of  insanity  running 
through  all  her  operations,  and  he  proved  that  some 
stars  are  mad,  and  that  madness  is  exhibited  in  earth- 
quakes, in  violent  storms,  and  in  the  fury  of  other 
beasts  of  prey  besides  man.  Dr.  Puddifant,  who  was 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         323 

thoroughly  practical,  laughed  at  Dr.  Paradarakovsky, 
and  said  that  the  book  ought  to  be  held  as  evidence 
that  its  author  was  insane.  That  was  precisely  Dr. 
Paradarakovsky's  opinion  of  Dr.  Puddifant,  and 
when  Monty,  who  liked  that  sort  of  joke,  whispered 
the  fact  to  Herr  Habenichts,  the  latter  burst  out 
laughing  at  the  moment  when  the  elder  Jedder  was 
reading  an  inventory.  Mr.  Jedder  paused,  and  looked 
defiantly  in  the  direction  of  Herr  Habenichts. 

"  That  was  my  fault,"  said  Monty,  smiling ;  and 
Mr.  Jedder  was  able  to  proceed. 

After  he  had  amassed  damning  proof  of  the  baro- 
net's incapacity  for  managing  his  own  affairs,  Mr. 
Jedder  delivered  himself  of  another  cough,  and  then 
addressed  the  doctors  again.  He  knew,  of  course, 
that  a  declaration  signed  by  only  one  of  them  and 
by  the  family  physician  would  be  sufficient;  but  he 
agreed  with  Dr.  Minting  that  it  would  be  satisfactory 
to  have  the  advice  of  the  two  distinguished  men. 
They  had  quarrelled  already,  however,  over  the  case, 
and  Mr.  Jedder  had  besought  them  in  the  interest 
of  the  heirs  to  come  to  an  agreement. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  it  is  a  very  melancholy, 
a  very  extraordinary  case.  But  the  facts  constitute 
evidence  which  is  overwhelming.  For  the  good  of 
the  baronet  himself,  not  to  mention  the  interests  of 
the  future  baronet  and  of  Miss  Marduke,  we  should 
make  it  impossible  for  Sir  John  to  spend,  or,  I  should 


324         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

rather  say,  to  misspend  another  shilling.  Why,  sirs, 
the  provisions  of  the  original  will  are  already  ren- 
dered nugatory,  because  there  is  not  sufficient  money 
to  go  round.  What  this  gentleman "  (pointing  to 
Herr  Habenichts)  "is  able  to  tell  you  about  Sir 
John's  recall  of  the  loan  which  was  granted  to  The 
Original  Jellini  Academy  of  Dancing  is,  no  doubt, 
perfectly  true.  Sir  John,  on  his  own  initiative,  did 
recall  the  loan.  But  that  fact  does  not  alter  the 
case.  A  large  fortune  has  been  squandered  and  is 
still  being  squandered,  so  that,  at  this  rate  of  sub- 
traction, zero  will  soon  be  reached.  Now,  property 
is  sacred.  How  will  the  future  baronet  be  able  to 
maintain  his  due  position?  I  say  that  property  is 
sacred.  .You  may  suggest  that  there  is  method  in 
Sir  John's  madness.  I  reply  that  there  is  madness 
in  his  method,  and  there  are  present  all  the  symptoms 
of  a  singular  hallucination.  It  is  really  an  alarming 
form  of  megalomania." 

"  Ach  ja !  "  said  Herr  Habenichts,  "  men  are  either 
megalomaniacs  or  micromaniacs  —  dat  is,  maniacs  in 
great  tings  or  in  small.  I  prefer  de  big  maniacs. 
I  admire  Sir  John.  He  burn  red  at  de  thought 
of  de  poor  slaves  long  ago  making  his  vortune.  He 
not  mad !  " 

"  A  mere  dreamer,"  whispered  Dr.  Puddifant  to 
the  elder  Jedder. 

"  Far  worse !     A  mere  dancing  master,  the  pro- 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         325 

prietor  of  Jellini's !  "  whispered  the  elder  Jedder  in 
turn,  and  then  coughed  again. 

Minnie  Marduke  appeared  to  be  very  sad,  and  she 
sat  silent.  But  Monty  spoke,  and  he  said  that  he 
agreed  with  Herr  Habenichts.  He  hotly  maintained 
that  his  father  was  not  mad.  The  elder  Jedder 
replied  by  restating  the  dilemma.  If  Sir  John  were 
not  declared  incapable  of  managing  his  own  affairs, 
then,  no  power  on  earth  could  prevent  him  from  re- 
ducing his  family  to  beggary.  On  the  other  hand, 
only  by  such  a  declaration  would  it  be  legally  pos- 
sible to  take  the  estate  out  of  his  hands  and  admin- 
ister it  in  his  own  and  his  family's  interest.  At 
this  point  a  dramatic  incident  occurred.  Sir  John 
Marduke,  with  flushed  face,  bright  eye  and  hurried 
step,  entered  the  room,  and  he  held  half  a  dozen 
cheques  in  his  hand.  His  manner  was  certainly 
somewhat  strange,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  be  sur- 
prised to  see  the  elder  Jedder  or  even  Herr  Habe- 
nichts.  It  was  on  the  doctors  that  he  fixed  an  angry 
look. 

"  These  gentlemen  here  yet  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Ha,  ha !  I  am  not  mad,  Monty.  Now,  Mr.  Jedder, 
I  am  glad  to  see  you.  Take  these  "  —  handing  the  six 
cheques.  "  They  are  for  orphans  and  poor  women." 

"  All  right,  Sir  John,"  said  Mr.  Jedder,  humour- 
ing him,  "  I  will  attend  to  them," 

There  could  have  been  no  more  convincing  demon- 


326         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

stration  to  all  present  of  the  need  of  immediate 
action.  Sir  John  was  lost.  He  went  up  to  Herr 
Habenichts,  shook  hands,  and  began  to  apologise  for 
having  taken  back  the  money. 

"  Nein,"  said  Herr  Habenichts.  "  Vat  nonsense ! 
You  did  right.  I  vas  and  I  am  fery  much  obli- 
gated to  you,  Sir  John  Marduke." 

"  Jedder,"  said  Sir  John,  "  if  my  son  promises  to 
have  nothing  more  to  do  with  that  —  that  beautiful 
dancing  girl  —  lovely  creature,  I  admit  —  but,  if 
he  promises,  I  will  give  Mr.  Habenichts  three  times 
the  sum  as  a  gift.  Monty  ?  " 

"  Father,"  said  Monty,  "  I  would  rather  not  dis- 
cuss that  matter." 

"  Ho,  ho !  the  dancing  girl.  My  son  marries  the 
dancing  girl !  Did  you  mention  a  cab-yard  ?  "  asked 
Sir  John,  with  a  vacant  stare.  "  I  thought  I  heard 
the  name  '  Jellini '  ?  An  Academy  of  the  Dance 
of  Death,  gentlemen!  My  family  is,  of  course, 
cursed !  We  deserve  it.  That  hellish  fortune !  The 
blood  of  the  slaves  crying  out  over  the  sea  against 
us.  This  house,  the  carpet  I  am  walking  on,  the 
furniture,  my  horses,  my  daughter's  jewels,  my  silver, 
my  motor-car,  the  clothes  we  wear,  the  food  we  eat, 
the  wines  we  drink,  everything  —  everything  came 
to  us  because  hundreds,  thousands  of  slaves  worked 
under  the  lash.  I  can't  sleep,  doctors.  I  see  the  slave 
ships  crossing  the  horizon  while  the  sun  goes  down 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         327 

red  on  Africa.  The  slave  ships,  every  one  of  them 
named  l  Marduke,'  every  one  of  them  full  of  tor- 
mented men  and  women  and  children  who  are  to 
make  the  fortune  which  the  Mardukes  are  going  to 
spend  in  the  twentieth  century  —  on  dancing  girls! 
The  slave  ship  heaving  to,  in  the  red  dawn,  gentle- 
men, rigged  with  curses !  Now  I  say  that  our  for- 
tune does  not  belong  to  us.  Not  robbery  only,  but 
murder  was  its  foundation !  " 

All  became  very  excited,  and  in  vain  Mr.  Jedder 
attempted  to  quiet  Sir  John.  Herr  Habenichts 
slipped  out  of  the  room,  because  he  felt  that  no 
stranger  should  witness  the  scene. 

"  I  have  a  pain  here,"  continued  Sir  John,  touch- 
ing his  head  and  his  heart;  and  then  he  took  his 
daughter's  hand. 

"  Come,  father,"  said  Minnie,  and  led  him  away. 

There  was  little  left  for  the  elder  Jedder  to  do, 
but  he  informed  the  specialists  of  one  last  fact  of 
great  significance,  and  then  asked  them  if  they  could 
any  longer  hesitate.  Sir  John  Marduke  had  refused 
to  accept  a  higher  title. 

"  And  it  was  an  earldom,  too,"  added  Mr.  Jedder. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  us,"  asked  Dr.  Puddifant, 
who  was  hoping  to  be  at  last  knighted  on  a  change 
of  Government,  "  that  he  refused  an  earldom  ? " 

"  He  would  refuse  even  a  dukedom,"  replied  Mr. 
Jedder. 


328 

"  Then  he  is  mad,"  said  Dr.  Paradarakovsky  and 
Dr.  Puddifant,  simultaneously. 

And  the  declaration  was  immediately  signed  by 
the  two  eminent  men. 

Herr  Habenichts  had  informed  one  of  the  servants 
that  he  wished  to  speak  with  Mr.  Marduke,  for  this 
was  the  morning  which  followed  his  supper  with 
the  Duchess  Dowager  of  Berkshire.  He  waited,  there- 
fore, in  the  library,  and  took  down  a  French  book, 
"  Mes  Paradis/'  and  soon  became  lost  in  it.  What 
had  pleased  him  in  Monty's  conduct  was  the  fact 
that  the  young  man  had  done  nothing  to  accelerate, 
had,  indeed,  done  everything  to  retard  his  entrance 
on  the  control  of  what  was  still  a  great  estate.  A 
son  of  unfilial  feeling  would  rather  have  been  tempted 
to  hasten  the  displacement  of  a  father  who,  however 
praiseworthy  the  motive,  had  already  played  havoc 
with  the  family  fortune.  But  now  Monty,  against 
his  own  desire,  would  be  master  of  a  much  larger 
revenue  than  he  had  ever  enjoyed.  These  thoughts 
interfered  with  Herr  Habenichts'  reading,  and  he 
leaned  back  on  the  easy  chair  on  which  he  was  sitting 
and  looked  round  the  large  room.  The  rows  and 
rows  of  books  fascinated  him,  and  he  admired  the 
pictures  and  the  admirable  taste  everywhere  displayed. 
And  he  thought  of  the  delightful  future  which  lay 
before  Dorothy  when  she  became  mistress  of  such 
a  house. 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         329 

"  Mistress  ?  "  he  whispered  to  himself.  "  Ach  ja, 
I  don't  believe  dat  he  means  de  word  in  de  oder 
sense.  Supposing?  Nein,  nein,  I  judge  by  de  face. 
De  boy  is  in  dreadful  earnest  He  marry  her.  I 
judge  by  de  boy's  face." 

At  this  moment  Monty  entered  hurriedly.  After 
Herr  Habenichts  had  expressed  sympathy  with  him, 
he  asked  what  was  to  happen  to  the  baronet;  and 
Monty  said  that  his  father  would  continue  to  live  at 
Portland  Place,  that  special  servants  and  a  male  nurse 
would  watch  over  him,  and  that  perhaps  in  time  his 
mental  convalescence  might  be  complete. 

"  But,  Herr  Habenichts,"  he  added,  "  I  wish  to 
assure  you  that  you  need  have  no  fear  of  the  future. 
I  have  told  Jedder  that  he  must  return  the  money  to 
you,  and  that  I  will  be  responsible  for  that  and  a 
good  deal  more.  You  are  to  consider  that  loan  as 
a  gift.  I  owe  so  much  to  you." 

"  Vot !  "  exclaimed  Herr  Habenichts.  "  You  owe 
me  noting." 

Then  a  pleasant  duel  took  place  between  them, 
Monty  insisting  on  acceptance,  Herr  Habenichta 
gently  refusing,  until  at  last  he  was  compelled  to 
declare  himself  vanquished  by  the  generous  youth. 
Then  a  very  eager  expression  appeared  in  Monty's 
boyish  face.  Herr  Habenichts  thought  that  he  had 
never  seemed  so  handsome,  so  tall,  so  manly,  so 
sincere. 


330         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

"  Ach  ja !  "  said  Herr  Habenichts,  smiling,  "  I 
know  wat  you  wish  to  speak  about.  It  is  about  de 
pretty  face.  I  haf  news  of  pretty  face  vor  you. 
Vondervoll,  vondervoll !  She  is  safe !  " 

And  it  was  to  an  excited  listener  that  he  narrated 
the  story  of  Dorothy  lost  in  the  fog,  of  the  finding  of 
her,  and  of  her  present  refuge  in  the  house  of  Ara- 
bella, Duchess  of  Berkshire.  At  first  Monty  was 
stunned  by  the  news,  and  saw  it  in  the  light  of  a 
disaster.  He  began  to  upbraid  Herr  Habenichts  for 
having  done  a  foolish  thing. 

"Vot?    Voolish?" 

"  Why,  of  course,"  said  Monty,  with  some  heat. 
"  Did  not  I  tell  you  that  I  have  quarrelled  with  that 
old  woman  ?  " 

"All  in  de  fog  it  happened,  but  now  de  fog  is 
gone." 

He  laid  a  quieting  hand  on  the  flushed  youth. 

"  I  'm  going  —  I  'm  going  there  this  moment," 
cried  Monty,  who  had  risen. 

"  ISTein,"  replied  Herr  Habenichts,  almost  in  a 
tone  of  command.  "  If  you  go  you  spoil  all.  I 
called  her  a  vicked  ancient  lady.  She  is  ancient, 
but  not  altogeder  vicked,  only  fery  proud.  But  I 
see  behind  de  pride  and  high  looks  de  light  of  kind- 
ness. Ach,  Du  lieber  Gott!  I  laugh.  De  curls! 
How  dey  shake !  Dose  curls  live !  Dey  dance !  " 

And  then  he  shook  his  sides  with  genuine  laughter, 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         331 

and  put  his  hand  on  Monty's  shoulder.  He  then 
recounted  his  experience  at  the  dowager's  on  that 
romantic  night,  his  meeting  with  Monsieur  Duma- 
resq,  the  amazing  supper  with  the  dowager,  and,  fi- 
nally, the  presentation  of  Dorothy.  Such  was  the 
vividness  and  gaiety  of  his  narrative,  that  he  com- 
municated his  high  spirits  to  Monty,  who  stood  de- 
vouring every  detail. 

"  But,"  repeated  Herr  Habenichts,  laying  a  warn- 
ing hand  upon  him  again,  "  you  must  not  go  to 
Grosvenor  Square.  You  spoil  all.  I  go.  I  go  dis 
minute  to  negotiate  a  treaty  of  peace  between  her  and 
you.  Ach  ja,  de  conditions  vill  be  hard  vor  you. 
Dis  morning  a  footman  came  to  me  at  Mrs.  Vix  vith 
a  note  demanding  my  appearance  at  de  house  to- 
day at  twelve  o'clock.  I  go.  De  dowager  fery  ex- 
cited about  someting,  and  vish  to  speak.  But  you 
must  vait.  I  telephone  de  result." 

"  The  motor  is  at  the  door,  you  will  take  it,"  said 
Monty. 

"  Ja,  I  take  it." 

"  Herr  Habenichts,  I  can't  believe  it 's  true !  " 
exclaimed  Monty,  seizing  the  old  man's  hand. 

"  Ja,  it  is  true,"  said  Herr  Habenichts.  "  De 
Duchesse  is  terrible.  I  am  avraid  of  her,  too!  But 
how  I  laughed  ven  I  got  out  of  de  great  house  and 
thought  of  my  impudence  —  de  old  Tanzmeister  sup- 
ping vith  de  great  Duchesse.  It  is  like  Calderon'a 


332         THE    OLD    DANCE   MASTER 

play,  I  said,  La,  Vida  es  sueno  —  Life  is  a  dream. 
Ach,  dose  curls!  Dey  glitter  like  silver!  How  dey 
shake!  But  I  go,  I  go.  She  vait  vor  me.  Some- 
ting  important,  I  hope  good.  Call  your  car." 

Monty  hurried  him  out  of  the  house,  and  bundled 
him  into  the  car,  and  ordered  the  chauffeur  to  drive 
to  Grosvenor  Square,  and  to  await  there  Herr  Habe- 
nichts'  instructions. 

"  You  will  come  straight  back  here  to  lunch,"  said 
Monty. 

"  Ja,  I  know,"  replied  Herr  Habenichts,  and  the 
car  started. 

"  Stop !  "  cried  Herr  Habenichts.     "  I  vorget." 

The  car  was  stopped,  and  Monty  came  running 
down  to  the  pavement  again. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

Vill  you  lend  me  '  Mes  Paradis '  ?  "  asked  Herr 
Habenichts.  "  De  book  I  vas  reading." 

Monty  told  a  footman  to  find  the  book,  and  when 
it  was  brought,  he  handed  it  to  Herr  Habenichts. 

"  Keep  it,"  said  Monty. 

Herr  Habenichts  thanked  him,  lifted  his  hat,  and 
then  began  to  re-read  the  book  as  the  car  started 
again  in  the  direction  of  Grosvenor  Square. 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-FIRST 

VIEONAL  could  not  give  her  sleep.  And  at  twenty 
minutes  past  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  she  sat  up, 
removed  from  her  head  a  night-cap  of  fine  lace  and 
pink  ribbons,  and  then  shook  her  grey  curls.  Her 
insomnia  was  not  caused,  however,  by  any  fear  lest 
Dorothy  might  escape.  For  Dorothy  had  been  given 
in  charge  of  the  housekeeper,  a  very  vigilant  person, 
and  after  the  excitement  of  that  eventful  evening, 
she  was  lying  in  profound  slumber.  Arabella  was 
awake  because  the  fear  of  ridicule  had  robbed  her 
of  the  power  to  sleep.  That  a  dance  master  had  at- 
tended one  of  her  receptions  as  a  guest,  had  been 
introduced  to  her  friends  Lady  Lormington  and  Count 
Stein,  and  had  actually  taken  supper  with  her,  made 
her  somehow  think  of  Les  Precieuses  Ridicules  and 
of  the  newspapers.  For,  if  the  fact  became  known, 
she  would  be  made  ridiculous  for  ever.  Twice  she 
had  lifted  the  telephone  which  stood  at  her  bedside. 
The  cord  which  carried  the  wire  was  of  sufficient 
length  to  allow  her  to  hold  the  instrument  in  her 
hands  while  she  was  in  the  horizontal  posture.  There- 
fore she  resumed  that  posture,  and  wondered  if  Mon- 


334         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

sieur  Dumaresq  would  be  very  angry  to  be  rung 
out  of  sleep  at  half-past  two  in  the  morning. 
They  had  frequently  exchanged  telephonic  good 
mornings,  because  Monsieur  Dumaresq  was  pro- 
vided with  a  similar  apparatus  at  his  pillow,  but 
they  had  never  had  a  semi-nocturnal,  semi-matutinal 
conversation. 

"  Oh,"  said  Arabella,  "  since  it  is  his  fault  he 
should  suffer,  and,  in  any  case,  I  must  have  an  ex- 
planation at  once." 

And  so  she  rang  him  up. 

"  Who  is  it  ? "  asked  a  very  weak  voice. 

"  Monsieur  Dumaresq,  are  you  there  ?  "  replied 
the  dowager. 

"What?     Who  is  it?" 

"  Monsieur  Dumaresq,  I  hope  you  were  not 
asleep  ? "  asked  the  dowager,  sitting  up  in  bed. 

"  It  would  always  be  a  pleasure  to  wake  up  to 
hear  your  voice,  Duchess,"  said  Monsieur  Dumaresq, 
as  he  turned  on  his  side.  "  But,  really,  my  watch 
says  —  just  one  moment  —  why,  it  is  only  half -past 
two!" 

"  I  am  having  a  dreadful  night,"  replied  Arabella ; 
"  /  can't  sleep,  although  I  took  vironal." 

"  /  could  not  sleep  at  first  for  thinking  of  your 
charming  dance.  But  what  is  wrong  ? " 

"  Oh,  it 's  that  man  you  brought  —  the  man  Habe- 
nichts." 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         335 

"  /  did  n't  bring  him,"  replied  Monsieur  Duma- 
resq,  sitting  up  in  bed.  "  But  what  'a  wrong  with 
him?" 

"  You  did  n't  bring  him  ?  " 

"  No,  I  did  n't." 

"  But  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course.  But  we  had  n't  met  since  we 
last  saw  each  other  in  Vienna." 

"  And  was  he  a  dancing  master  then  ? " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Duchess,  I  don't  quite 
understand  you.  I  think  there  is  something  wrong 
with  the  instrument,  or  perhaps  it 's  our  sleepy 
voices." 

"  Did  he  teach  dancing  ?  "  asked  the  dowager,  with 
a  touch  of  fury. 

"  Good  Heavens,  no !  "  exclaimed  Monsieur  Du- 
maresq. 

"  Well,  he  had  supper  with  me  —  it  is  perfectly 
appalling  to  think  of  —  I  say  he  had  supper,  and  he 
told  me  that  he  is  the  proprietor  of  The  Original 
Jellini  Academy  of  Dancing  in  the  Tottenham  Court 
Road !  "  said  the  Duchess,  almost  collapsing,  and 
falling  back  with  the  telephone  in  her  hands.  "  I  '11 
never  get  over  it !  " 

"  Oh,  ho !  "  laughed  Dumaresq,  regretting  that  he 
was  already  so  far  awake  as  to  be  able  to  laugh  at 
all,  "  that  must  be  a  joke.  He  meant  that  he  wrote 
a  '  History  of  Dancing,'  a  very  fascinating  book,  you 


336         THE    OLD    DANCE   MASTER 

know,  which  is  in  the  libraries  of  all  the  Universities 
of  Europe.    I  will  get  you  a  copy." 

"  No,  thank  you.  I  am  not  mistaken.  The  man 
teaches  dancing.  I  have  another  reason  for  knowing 
that  too  well,"  replied  Arabella,  with  a  wild  shake  of 
her  curls. 

"  Baron  von  Habenichts  ? "  asked  Monsieur  Du- 
maresq. 

"Baron?" 

"  What,  Duchess  ?  " 

"  I  say,  did  you  say  '  Baron '  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  He  is  Baron  von  Habenichts.  Mon 
Dieu!  What  is  the  meaning  of  this?  How  did  he 
get  there  if  you  did  not  invite  him  ?  I  did  n't  bring 
him.  You  know,  when  he  was  a  young  officer  in 
Vienna,  an  Archduchess  fell  in  love  with  him.  There 
was  a  tremendous  talk.  He  was  wonderfully  hand- 
some, you  know.  .  .  .  Oh,  my  pillow !  " 

"  What  ?  "  asked  the  Duchess. 

"  My  pillow  fell  out,  that  'a  all !  "  laughed  Mon- 
sieur Dumaresq.  "  I  've  got  it  again." 

"  You  know,  I  don't  believe  in  having  pillows  that 
are  too  soft,  do  you  ?  "  asked  the  dowager.  "  They 
heat  the  head  and  prevent  one  from  sleeping." 

"  Ah,  that  is  why  you  have  not  slept,  Duchess. 
Do  get  harder  pillows.  I  sometimes  think  we  are 
becoming  too  luxurious,"  said  Monsieur  Dumaresq. 
"  Now,  take  this  telephone  we  are  both  using  —  " 


337 

"  Do  please  say  more  about  your  friend,"  urged 
the  dowager,  pulling  a  shawl  from  the  bed  rail,  and 
throwing  it  over  her  shoulders. 

At  this  point  the  operator  interfered,  and  asked 
if  the  conversation  was  to  continue  much  longer. 

"  I  am  the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Berkshire,"  said 
Arabella. 

"  Are  you  there  ? "  asked  Monsieur  Dumaresq. 

"  Oh,"  replied  the  dowager,  "  it  was  only  those 
tiresome  people  at  the  exchange.  Well,  do  tell  me 
about  him." 

"  I  know  that  he  lost  all  his  money,"  continued 
Monsieur  Dumaresq.  "  His  family  had  lands  for 
centuries  in  Tyrol,  at  Innsbruck,  and  they  had  also 
a  lovely  place  at  Toblach,  for  I  visited  it  when  Von 
Habenichts  and  I  were  young  fellows.  But  he  be- 
came heavily  involved  in  the  failure  of  a  great  Aus- 
trian bank  —  " 

Monsieur  Dumaresq  paused  to  yawn. 

"  Poor  Monsieur  Dumaresq,  you  are  tired.  It 
is  wicked  of  me,"  said  the  dowager,  more  and  more 
interested,  and  determined  to  keep  him  awake. 

"  Not  at  all.  I  was  saying  that  Von  Habenichts  " 
(yawning  again)  — "  Von  Habenichts  was  ruined. 
He  went  to  England.  I  lost  sight  of  him,  and  then 
he  published  his  great  history.  Your  reception  was 
so  crowded  I  had  really  little  time  to  speak  to  him. 
But  be  assured,  Duchess,  it  is  the  same  man.  Of 


338         THE    OLD    DANCE   MASTER 

course,  all  sorts  of  adventures  may  have  befallen  him. 
He  was  always  a  man  who  would  stick  at  nothing." 

"  This  is  most  interesting ! "  exclaimed  Arabella. 
"  It  changes  everything.  Oh,  I  admire  it !  And 
people  say  that  our  class  is  played  out!  " 

"  Pshaw !  "  said  Monsieur  Dumaresq,  and  sank 
back  wearily  on  his  pillow,  clasping  the  telephone 
like  a  missal. 

"  It  reminds  me  of  that  French  marquis  Heine 
talks  of,"  continued  Arabella. 

"  Dear  Heine !  "  murmured  Monsieur  Dumaresq. 

"  Yes ;  I  love  him,  too.  Well,  you  know,  he  tells 
of  a  French  marquis  who  fled  during  the  Revolution 
and  went  to  a  German  town  and  became  a  shoemaker. 
The  only  difference  is  that  Baron  von  Habenichts 
taught  dancing." 

"  Yes,"  muttered  Monsieur  Dumaresq,  almost 
dozing. 

"  I  hope  you  will  sleep,  Monsieur  Dumaresq,"  said 
the  dowager.  "  Good  night.  Why,  it 's  almost  three. 
Good  morning.  I  hope  you  will  sleep." 

"  I  hope  you  will,  Duchess.  Good-bye,"  cried 
Monsieur  Dumaresq,  tucked  the  telephone  under  his 
pillow,  and  fell  on  his  side. 

Arabella  also  slept,  but  not  so  soundly,  and  she 
broke  the  habit  of  a  lifetime  by  rising  as  early  as 
nine  o'clock.  A  message  was  despatched  to  Baron 
von  Habenichts,  whose  address  was  given  to  the  house- 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         339 

keeper  by  Dorothy.  This,  then,  is  the  moment  to 
take  the  mask  of  incognito  from  the  face  of  him 
whom  we  have  known  as  the  old  dance  master.,  He 
was  surprised  to  find  that  the  reason  for  the  dowa- 
ger's desire  for  an  immediate  interview  was  not  on 
Dorothy's  or  Marduke's  account  but  on  his  own. 

"  Oh,  Baron,"  she  exclaimed,  advancing  to  meet 
him  with  outstretched  hands  and  shaking  curls,  "  have 
you  forgiven  me?  Baron  von  Habenichts,  what  a 
rogue  you  are !  I  have  had  a  sleepless  night  —  and 
then  poor  Monsieur  Dumaresq  —  " 

"  Ach  ja,"  said  Baron  von  Habenichts,  blushing, 
"  it  is  Dumaresq.  I  vas  avraid  of  it." 

"  I  woke  him  up  long  before  daylight,  and  we  had 
a  conversation  on  the  telephone  all  about  you,"  con- 
tinued the  dowager,  talking  rapidly  and  with  tho 
vivacity  of  a  woman  of  half  her  years. 

Baron  von  Habenichts,  who  had  come  unscathed 
through  so  many  humiliations,  was  at  last  blushing, 
and  was  unhappy.  His  serenity  momentarily  forsook 
him.  For  there  still  lingered  some  debris  of  family 
pride,  and  he  would  have  liked  to  conceal  his  record 
of  misfortune  from  one  of  his  own  class.  He  would 
have  liked  to  retain  his  incognito  till  the  end,  because, 
moneyless,  he  felt  his  ancient  rank  to  be  a  mockery. 
On  the  other  hand,  Arabella  had  suddenly  conceived 
a  very  great  admiration  for  him,  and  felt  that  there 
must  be  something  heroic  in  his  history.  She  was 


340         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

impatient  to  hear  its  romance.  And  this  must  be 
said  for  her  that  she  invariably  treated  with  special 
courtesy  any  member  of  any  noblesse  who  had  fallen 
into  poverty.  She  was  quick,  also,  to  feel  ashamed 
because  she  had  mistrusted  her  own  instincts,  which 
had  told  her,  as  they  had  told  her  other  guests,  that  the 
stranger  who  had  suddenly  appeared  at  her  reception 
was  a  man  of  their  own  world. 

"  Ach  ja,"  said  Baron  von  Habenichts,  as  he 
sat  beside  her  in  her  boudoir  and  began  to  be  at 
his  ease  again,  "  eine  wunderbare  Geschichte !  " 

"  Now  will  you  lunch  with  me  to-day  ? "  asked 
the  dowager. 

"  I  lunch  vith  Mr.  Marduke,"  said  the  baron ; 
"  his  motor-car  is  at  de  door." 

"  Does  he  know  ?  "  asked  Arabella. 

"  Nein.  I  do  not  vish  him  or  anyone  to  know. 
Vat  haf  you  done  vith  Dorrie,  Duchesse?  Dat  is 
de  question." 

"  It  is  because  I  have  so  much  to  say  on  that 
matter,"  said  the  dowager,  with  a  slight  frown,  "  that 
I  should  like  you  to  remain." 

"  Vith  your  permission,  Duchesse,  I  vill  write  a 
note  and  send  it  back  in  de  car  to  Mr.  Marduke  ? " 
asked  the  baron  as  he  rose  and  walked  to  a  writing- 
table. 

The  note  was  soon  written  and  despatched,  and  it 
was  evident  that  Arabella  had  taken  full  possession 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         341 

of  her  new  acquaintance.  There  was  some  quality 
in  him  which  made  him  at  home  everywhere  and 
attracted  to  him  all  classes  of  people.  When  he  sat 
on  a  spring  day  in  the  tattered  garden  opposite  Wix's 
Residential  Hotel,  in  Fashion  Row,  children  used 
to  run  towards  him  because  he  told  them  stories.  And 
he  would  lay  aside  the  book  of  poetry  or  philosophy 
which  he  was  reading  in  order  to  caress  some  stray 
cat  of  evil  aspect  which  came  up  to  him,  and  learned 
how  to  purr  again.  Perhaps,  however,  the  most  re- 
markable fact  of  his  career  was  the  influence  which 
he  was  about  to  have  upon  Arabella,  Duchess  of 
[Berkshire. 

"  Ach  ja,  Duchesse,"  he  said,  as  she  listened  to 
the  tale  of  his  adventures,  "  I  vould  not  change  my 
experience  for  all  de  vorld.  Like  Chateaubriand,  I 
vished  to  haf  de  full  programme  of  life.  I  vas  Frei- 
herr,  baron,  but  I  dropped  de  frei  to  become  more 
frei!" 

"  You  are  just  like  one  of  those  emigres  whom 
Madame  de  Boigne  mentions,"  said  the  dowager; 
"  people  like  the  Duchess  of  Fitz-James  who  had  to 
leave  everything  behind  them  at  the  Revolution,  and 
were  so  poor  that  they  used  to  go  to  evening  parties 
on  the  tops  of  London  omnibuses.  When  they  dined 
with  each  other  they  were  expected  to  leave  three 
shillings  under  a  cup  on  the  mantelpiece.  I  wish  I 
had  been  one  of  these  people." 


342         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTEE 

"  I  haf  dined  vith  cabmen  and  vith  kings,  Du- 
chesse,"  continued  Baron  von  Habenichts,  "  and  haf 
been  happy  vith  both.  I  haf  worn  de  goloshes  of 
Fortune  and  de  goloshes  of  Misfortune,  and  dey  both 
fit.  You  say  vat  is  happiness?  How  could  I  haf 
been  happy  vith  all  de  money  and  de  land  gone? 
Ach  ja,  read  Epictetus.  You  mention  Heine  ?  Heine 
said  he  was  not  large  enough  to  bear  humilia- 
tion. But  I  say,  Duchesse,  dat  I  am  too  big  for 
de  leetle  mousetraps  of  misfortune.  Dey  don't  admit 
me!" 

And  then  he  began  to  shake  with  gentle  laughter, 
and  his  eyes  brightened  as  he  recalled  some  of  his 
escapades. 

"  You  ask  how  I  velt  ven  I  sold  dance  music, 
and  taught  de  dance  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said ;  "  you,  a  man  of  birth  and  cul- 
ture." 

"  I  velt  like  Baron  von  Habenichts,"  he  replied. 
"  Noting  ever  vanquished  my  pride.  Noting  ever 
destroyed  me.  Ach  ja,  I  haf  seen  men  blasted  like 
trees  by  de  lightning  of  life,  but  it  plays  about  my 
head  all  de  time,  and  I  laugh.  Listen,  Duchesse,  ve 
cannot  onderstand  de  vorld,  de  universe,  vat  is  called 
de  cosmic ;  but  let  us  haf  de  comic !  Oh,  but  enough 
of  dis.  Vat  are  you  going  to  do  vith  Dorrie  ?  I 
yould  like  to  see  her." 

"  Impossible,  Baron,"  said  Arabella ;  "  the  corset- 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         343 

maker  is  with  her  at  this  moment,  and  the  hair- 
dresser is  waiting." 

"  Ach  ja,"  said  Baron  von  Habenichts,  laughing, 
"  it  all  koms  right" 

"  Let  us  go  in  to  luncheon,"  said  Arabella,  rising, 
"  and  you  will  tell  me  all  about  your  book." 

"  Haf  you  heard  vat  has  happened  to  Sir  John 
Marduke  ? "  he  asked  as  he  offered  his  arm. 

"  No ;  do  tell  me,"  she  said  as  they  walked  to  the 
dining-room. 

And  during  luncheon  he  gave  her  not  only  a  rapid 
sketch  of  the  history  of  dancing  in  all  ages  and  in  all 
countries,  but  told  her  of  the  event  which  had  placed 
Monty  Marduke  in  control  of  the  Marduke  fortune. 

"  And  the  amount  ?  Do  you  remember  the 
amount  ?  "  she  asked.  "  How  much  has  been  saved  ? " 

"  Ach  Gott,  I  tink  it  is  over  four  hundred  tousand 
pounds,"  he  replied. 


CHAPTER    TWENTY-SECOKD 

Now  there  is  a  biography  of  Arabella,  Duchess  of 
Berkshire,  in  which  the  author  attempts  to  belittle 
the  part  which  Baron  von  Habenichts  played  in  the 
final  occurrences  of  this  history.  We  beg  very  respect- 
fully to  differ  from  that  author.  He  is  evidently 
bent  on  the  glorification  of  Arabella.  We,  on  the 
contrary,  desire  only  to  ascertain  the  truth.  And  we 
hope  that  we  have  proved  the  truth  to  be  this,  that 
without  the  Baron  von  Habenichts  there  would  have 
been  no  history  to  relate. 

We  have  no  desire  to  be  unfair  to  Arabella.  She 
did  play  an  important  part.  But  she  played  it  at 
first  grudgingly,  and  without  the  help  of  Baron  von 
Habenichts  she  never  would  have  played  it  at  all. 
Dorothy  was  very  reticent,  and  her  reticence  on  so 
delicate  a  matter  did  her  infinite  credit.  But  eye- 
witnesses have  told  us  that  at  first  she  suffered  se- 
verely, and  that  Arabella  subjected  her  to  a  terrible 
discipline.  Arabella,  indeed,  became  far  more  inter- 
ested in  Baron  von  Habenichts  than  in  the  poor  found- 
ling, the  girl  of  the  bright  dark  pedigree.  That  other 
author,  busy  with  his  deification  of  Arabella,  scouts 

344 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         345 

the  rumour.  But  we  have  had  access  to  private 
papers  which  he  has  never  seen,  and  we  maintain  that 
there  is  not  only  ground  for  suspicion,  but  for  proof, 
that  Arabella  at  last  fell  violently  in  love  with  Baron 
von  Habenichts.  She  wrote  him  at  least  five  hundred 
letters,  she  telephoned  at  least  one  thousand  times, 
and  everybody  knows  that  he  became  a  regular  habitue 
of  the  house  in  Grosvenor  Square. 

This  singular  man  seems  to  have  been  born  in 
order  to  prove  the  truth  of  that  saying  of  Burke, 
that  the  world  is  governed  by  go-betweens.  Owing 
to  the  generosity  and  the  persuasion  of  his  new  friends, 
he  at  last  with  reluctance  shut  the  shutters  of  The 
Original  Jellini  Academy  of  Dancing,  but  he  con- 
tinued to  dance  in  and  out  of  the  lives  of  some  of 
the  leading  personages  of  our  poor  chronicle.  The 
statue  of  Terpsichore  was  conveyed  to  Wix's  Resi- 
dential Hotel,  where  Mrs.  Wix,  who  went  into  a 
rapture  on  its  arrival,  assigned  to  it  a  prominent 
position  in  the  entrance  lobby.  It  was  only  Mrs. 
Mepham  who  expressed  astonishment  and  shock  at 
the  fact  that  the  goddess  wore  so  few  clothes.  On  the 
other  hand,  many  of  the  inmates  gathered  round  the 
statue  to  listen  to  a  lecture  on  ancient  sculpture  by 
Mr.  Botolph.  In  the  audience  were  Sir  Samuel  and 
Lady  Epworth,  Mr.  Pumpherston,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Coon, 
Mr.  Snape,  Mrs.  Wix  and  Polly,  while  Wurm  sat 
at  a  respectful  distance  on  the  stair.  Mrs.  Wix  led 


346         THE    OLD    DANCE   MASTER 

the  cheering,  and  she  was  especially  vociferous  when 
Mr.  Botolph  quoted  Greek.  When  at  the  end  of  the 
lecture  Mr.  Pumpherston  ventured  to  criticise  some 
of  the  lecturer's  remarks,  Sir  Samuel  Epworth  rose 
and  said  that  Mr.  Pumpherston  did  not  know  what 
he  was  talking  about.  A  scene  was  avoided  only  by 
the  lucky  arrival  of  Baron  von  Habenichts,  who  came 
smiling  among  his  friends  and  apologised  for  having 
been  delayed  by  important  business  with  the  elder 
Jedder,  senior  partner  of  the  firm  of  Jedder  and 
Jedder.  There  was  considerable  stir  in  the  house 
when  it  became  known  that  the  friendly  old  gentle- 
man, the  owner  and  exponent  of  Terpsichore,  was 
actually  a  Baron  of  the  Austrian  Empire.  Mr. 
Botolph  and  Sir  Samuel  Epworth  declared  that  they 
were  not  surprised,  because  they  had  long  ago  re- 
marked his  gentleness  and  good  breeding.  Mrs.  Wix 
claimed  the  same  perception,  and  offered  the  Baron 
a  better  room.  She  suspected  that  he  was  on  the  eve 
of  some  great  good  fortune,  because  the  footman  of 
Arabella,  Duchess  of  Berkshire,  frequently  delivered 
notes,  and  awaited  replies.  And  it  must  be  admitted 
that  it  was  no  longer  in  Wix's  Residential  Hotel, 
but  in  the  house  in  Grosvenor  Square,  that  the  Baron's 
interests  and  anxieties  now  centred. 

She  who  had  been  called  the  Democratic  Duchess 
decided  to  solve  in  her  own  aristocratic  way  the  diffi- 
cult problem  which  had  been  presented  to  her.  And 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         347 

it  was  well  for  Monty  Marduke  and  the  girl  he  loved 
that  they  had  Von  Habenichts  as  the  negotiator  of 
the  treaty  of  peace.  The  Baron  had  warned  Monty 
that  the  conditions  would  be  severe,  and  they  were 
even  severer  than  was  expected.  When  in  a  moment 
of  impatience  the  young  man  presented  himself  at 
Grosvenor  Square  he  was  refused  an  audience  not 
only  by  Arabella,  but  by  Miss  Dorothy  Darsham. 
The  message  which  Von  Habenichts  had  brought  back 
was  this,  that  the  amount  and  the  duration  of  the 
protection  with  which  Arabella,  Duchess  of  Berk- 
shire, might  favour  the  foundling  would  partly  de- 
pend on  Mr.  Marduke's  behaviour.  Moreover,  the 
foundling  in  a  statement  in  her  own  handwriting 
declared  that  during  a  period  of  six  months,  to  be 
extended  if  necessary  to  a  period  of  twelve,  or  even 
twenty-four,  she  would  refuse  to  see  Mr.  Monty  Mar- 
duke  on  any  pretext  whatever.  Monty  showed  the 
document  to  the  elder  Jedder,  who  detected  in  it  the 
craft  of  Arabella,  But  Baron  von  Habenichts  advised 
Monty  to  accept  the  conditions  and  to  be  patient. 
Arabella  made  it  perfectly  clear  to  all  whom  it  might 
concern  that  her  ultimate  decision  regarding  the  in- 
teresting orphan  would  depend  upon  whether  that 
orphan  displayed  certain  signs  of  promise  and  achieve- 
ment during  the  drastic  process  of  education  to  which 
she  was  going  to  be  subjected. 

"  How  ridiculous  you  men  are !  "  said  Arabella  to 


348         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

Baron  von  Habenichts.  "  Do  you  really  suppose  that 
it  would  be  possible  to  present  this  .  .  .  this  young 
person  to  Monsieur  Dumaresq  or  Lady  Lormington 
within  six  months  or  even  twelve?  I  promise  noth- 
ing. It  is  an  experiment,  a  very  dangerous  one,  and 
it  is  foolish  of  me  to  undertake  it.  But  I  will  do 
it  for  the  sake  of  Gascoigne  (poor  Gascoigne;  you 
know,  he  is  dead).  She  may  turn  out  an  absolute 
failure,  and  in  that  case  I  will  be  charitable,  that  is 
all.  It  would  be  uncharitable  to  launch  her  on  a 
life  for  which  she  is  unfit,  and  if  Monty  Marduke 
marries  her  he  will  be  a  fool.  She  will  have  nothing 
from  me.  I  think  there  may  be  the  right  material 
in  her.  She  will  have  great,  very  great  beauty. 
But  many  a  common  woman  has  great  beauty,  my 
dear  Baron.  Well,  we  shall  see.  I  am  hoping,  too, 
to  be  able  to  prove  that  the  Earl,  her  father,  did 
marry  Louise  Sherwin,  the  mother  who,  after  all, 
was  the  daughter  of  a  landed  gentleman  of  Essex." 

"  You  vill  never  prove  it,  and  vat  does  it  matter  ?  " 
asked  the  baron,  imperturbably.  "  Ah,  do  not  break 
dat  poor  boy's  heart.  Two  years!  It  is  an  eternity 
for  lovers,  Duchesse." 

The  dowager,  however,  refused  to  change  one  item 
of  the  plan  which  she  had  formed  and  which  she  set 
out  with  such  energy  to  realise.  Baron  von  Habe- 
nichts was  told  that  he  need  not  expect  to  see  the 
orphan  for  a  long  time. 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         349 

"  Ach  ja,"  he  said,  trying  to  comfort  Monty,  "  de 
Duchesse  has  taken  de  Dorrie  avay,  and  kidnapped 
de  leetle  girl.  But  vait.  Haf  patience.  De  Duchesse 
is  great !  " 

How  many  scoldings  and  humiliations  fell  to  the 
lot  of  the  fortunate  child  before  the  great  day  when 
she  was  to  be  inspected  and  judged  by  Lady  Lor- 
mington  and  Monsieur  Dumaresq  would  require  an- 
other book  and  a  better  author.  Throughout  that  ex- 
asperating time  Baron  von  Habenichts  attempted  in 
Vain  to  mitigate  the  rigorous  discipline  upon  which 
the  mind  of  Arabella  was  set.  She  declared  to  him 
with  a  touch  of  playful  venom  that  the  young  stranger 
was  perfect  in  nothing,  hopelessly  imperfect  in  every- 
thing except  in  dancing. 

"  Now,  child,  stop  weeping.  You  are  making  a 
fool  of  yourself.  Hold  yourself  better.  That  is  not 
the  way  to  enter  a  room.  Let  me  see  your  hands. 
Hem !  Let  me  see  you  cut  that  peach.  Hem !  Well, 
it  will  do.  Now  rise  again.  Let  me  see  you  walk. 
Oh,  not  so  fast !  Let  me  see  you  bow.  You  are  very 
gauche.  That  is  not  the  way  to  bow  to  a  gentleman, 
not  the  way  to  rise  from  table,  not  the  way  to  leave  a 
room.  Are  you  utterly  stupid  ? " 

"Yes,  aunt,"  said  Dorothy,  near  the  edge  of 
tears. 

"  I  did  not  give  you  permission  to  call  me 
1  aunt ' !  "  said  the  dowager,  shaking  her  locks  as 


350         THE    OLD    DANCE   MASTEK 

Banquo's  ghost  shook  his  and  so  terrified  Macbeth. 
"  Now  go  to  your  rooms." 

Dorothy  moved  sorrowfully  towards  the  door  and 
attempted  to  stifle  her  sobs. 

"  Stop !  "  said  the  dowager.  "  What  perfume  are 
you  using  ? " 

"  Cceur  de  Jeannette,  Duchess,"  replied  Dorothy. 

"  That  is  right.    Now  you  may  go." 

A  battalion  of  educationalists  of  all  sorts  and  of 
both  sexes  had  been  enrolled.  English  masters,  and 
masters  of  French,  of  German  and  of  Italian,  music 
and  singing  masters,  dressmakers,  milliners,  boot  and 
slipper  makers,  and  makers  of  corsets,  jewellers,  mani- 
curists, hair-dressers  and  parf umeurs  —  for  these  also 
are  educationalists  —  were  busy  with  the  girl  of  the 
stained  pedigree  and  were  transforming  her  until 
she  lost  her  identity  and  became  a  new  creature. 
Two  governesses  and  a  lady's  maid  watched  over  her 
movements  when  walking  or  driving  in  the  Park, 
when  shopping,  at  matinees,  at  concerts,  and  in  the 
riding  school.  No  correspondence  was  permitted,  but 
she  was  required  to  write  a  letter  once  a  week  to  the 
dowager  as  a  test  of  progress.  She  breakfasted, 
lunched,  and  dined  with  the  governesses,  and  was  never 
visible  to  any  of  Arabella's  callers,  who,  however, 
had  heard  whispers  that  the  dowager  was  engaged  in 
an  extraordinary  experiment;  but  they  dared  not 
asi  any  questions. 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER         351 

"  Don't  be  afraid  of  me,  you  foolish  child,"  said 
Arabella  one  morning,  as  she  held  a  sheet  of  paper 
in  her  hand ;  "  who  is  responsible  for  your  hair  ?  Tell 
Frew  that  I  do  not  admire  that  style.  Well,  pro- 
nounce these  words  —  Montague,  lointain,  Princesse 
Lointaine,  mille,  menu,  au  revoir,  garqon,  fille,  splen- 
dide,  plaisir,  nuit,  plat,  mystere,  Talleyrand,  Cor- 
neille,  Villon,  Regnier,  Le  Roi  Soleil." 

Dorothy  repeated  the  words  one  by  one,  and  her 
accent  was  better  than  Arabella's. 

"  What  are  you  reading  with  Monsieur  Bacourt  ?  " 

"  t  Le  Rouge  et  le  Noir,' "  answered  Dorothy. 

"  Really !  "  exclaimed  the  dowager.  "  I  am  sur- 
prised it  is  not  '  Les  Liaisons  Dangereuses.'  I  must 
see  Monsieur  Bacourt  about  this.  Stendhal  I  cer- 
tainly admire.  I  believe  it  was  Nietzsche  who  said 
that  he  was  one  of  the  great  psychologists  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  But  you  are  too  young  to  read 
him.  What  is  psychology?  And  tell  me  what  you 
know  of  Nietzsche  ?  " 

To  these  last  questions  Dorothy  gave  very  un- 
satisfactory answers,  and  was  dismissed.  The  dowa- 
ger was  secretly  pleased  with  her,  but  was  too  astute 
to  display  premature  satisfaction.  "  She  will  grow 
into  an  extraordinarily  lovely  woman.  There  is  no 
doubt  about  it.  And  I  think  she  has  brains.  But 
the  battle  will  not  be  won  for  a  long  time,  Baron. 
Tell  that  foolish  youth  that  if  he  makes  any  further 


352         THE    OLD    DANCE   MASTER 

attempts  to  come  here  I  will  cut  her  adrift.     She 
will  certainly  be  lovely." 

"  Ach  ja,  Duchesse,  and  de  vorld  vorgives  lovely 
vomen  and  brave  men  much,"  replied  the  baron. 
"  Ve  vorgive  you,  and  ve  vill  vait." 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-THIRD 

AND  while  we  too  are  waiting  we  may  glance  again 
at  the  list  of  our  minor  mortals.  For  Dorothy's 
education  was  so  prolonged  that  during  the  course 
of  it  many  changes  occurred  in  their  lives  and  for- 
tunes. To  begin  with,  the  negotiations  with  Sam 
Larkin  were  tedious  as  well  as  stormy,  but  they  were 
in  the  cautious  hands  of  the  elder  Jedder,  and  they 
were  brought  to  a  successful  end.  Dorothy  was  hardly 
surprised  when  the  truth  regarding  her  real  par- 
entage was  at  last  revealed  to  her.  She  seemed  to 
have  awakened  from  a  troubled  dream,  and  all  her 
past  life  became  alien  and  unreal.  Mr.  Larkin'a 
harsh  treatment  of  her  and  her  experiences  with  the 
two  dreadful  women  made  it  impossible  for  her  to 
indulge  in  any  false  sentiment  of  regret  that  she 
would  probably  never  see  any  of  the  three  again. 
Nevertheless,  she  was  kind  to  Sam  in  his  old  age. 
On  the  advice  of  Jedder  and  with  entire  approval 
of  it  she  assigned  to  Sam  her  right  to  the  small 
inheritance  which  had  come  to  her  through  her  mother, 
the  unfortunate  Louise  Sherwin,  sometime  mistress 
of  the  Earl  of  Swaffham.  Sam  had  need  of  it  be- 

353 


354         THE    OLD    DANCE   MASTER 

cause  his  affairs  had  lately  been  far  from  prosperous. 
He  was  eager  to  quit  London  for  his  Essex  farm, 
and  Mr.  Jedder  took  admirable  advantage  of  the 
opportunity.  Mr.  Jedder,  in  fact,  purchased  the 
cab-yard  freehold,  pulled  down  the  old  coach-houses 
and  stables,  erected  a  large  property  on  the  site,  and 
ultimately  reaped  a  profit  of  twenty-five  thousand 
pounds.  We  cannot  wander  indefinitely  through  the 
labyrinth  of  causes,  else  we  might  pause  to  consider 
that  once  more  even  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Jedder's  good 
fortune,  the  hand  of  Baron  von  Habenichts  is  visible. 
Eor  Mr.  Jedder  never  would  have  been  brought  into 
relation  with  Larkin  unless  Baron  von  Habenichts 
had  discovered  Dorothy.  Sam  went  gladly  back  to 
Essex  and  he  took  his  sisters  with  him.  After  pro- 
longed negotiations  Mrs.  Bleeks  consented  to  be  rec- 
onciled to  her  brother,  and  she  declared  that  she  had 
forgiven  him.  When  she  heard  who  "  Herr  Habe- 
nichts "  was  she  received  a  shock,  and  proposed  to 
write  a  letter  of  apology. 

"  Wot 's  'e  thinkin'  of  the  things  I  said  to  'im, 
and  'im  a  Baron  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  It 's  enough 
to  make  a  cat  larf !  " 

But  she  passed  her  days  tranquilly  on  the  borders 
of  Epping  Forest,  at  peace  with  all  the  world  with 
the  exception  of  Mrs.  Muzzey.  She  used  to  recall 
life  in  the  cab-yard,  and  wondered  where  all  the  old 
cabs  and  cab  horses  and  cabmen  had  gone.  The  cabs 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         355 

had  been  sold  for  a  song ;  the  cab  horses  had  gone  the 
way  of  all  flesh,  and  the  cabmen  were  fast  going. 
Swefling,  with  deep  rage  in  his  heart,  and  suffering 
in  an  obscure  inarticulate  way,  went  to  Canada,  and 
became  a  fierce  horseman  in  the  far  West.  That  is 
all  that  is  authentically  known  about  him.  Vardy 
found  employment  as  groom  in  the  stables  of  Mr. 
Monty  Marduke,  and  began  to  learn  better  English 
and  better  manners.  In  Wix's  Residential  Hotel 
there  was  less  change.  Mrs.  Mepham,  Mr.  Pumpher- 
ston,  the  Epworths,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Coon,  Mr.  Snape, 
and  Mr.  Botolph  still  sat  at  the  same  table,  and  dis- 
cussed with  the  same  warmth  the  same  topics.  The 
absence  of  Baron  von  Habenichts,  for  reasons  pres- 
ently to  be  explained,  was  deplored  by  none  so  sin- 
cerely as  by  Mrs.  Wix.  Polly  moped  and  drooped 
at  the  departure  of  Swefling,  and  was  called  "  a  rag 
bag  "  by  her  mother  again,  but  she  secretly  cherished 
the  hope  of  one  day  making  her  escape  to  Canada. 

It  was  at  Portland  Place  that  the  greatest  change 
occurred.  For  Sir  John  Marduke,  wearied  out  by 
his  strange  struggle  with  his  own  ideals,  died  at 
last,  and  was  succeeded  in  the  baronetcy  by  his  son. 
An  unfortunate  estrangement  had  taken  place  between 
brother  and  sister.  Minnie  refused  to  contemplate 
her  brother's  proposed  marriage,  no  matter  what  Ara- 
bella, Duchess  of  Berkshire,  might  do  for  the  bastard 
orphan,  who,  it  was  said,  was  to  be  the  bride.  Her 


356         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

share  in  the  Marduke  estate  brought  her  an  ample 
maintenance,  and  she  finally  settled  in  Paris.  And 
now  Sir  Monty  was  master  of  the  house  in  Portland 
Place,  exactly  eleven  months  after  Dorothy  had  been 
received  by  the  dowager  duchess.  His  astonishment 
when  he  heard  of  the  real  status  of  the  old  friend 
without  whom  he  never  could  have  met  the  girl  whom 
he  hoped  to  make  his  wife  was  very  great,  and  his 
action  was  very  characteristic.  For  he  immediately 
invited  Baron  von  Habenichts  to  be  his  guest  in  Port- 
land Place.  The  baron  accepted  the  invitation,  but 
he  left  the  statue  of  Terpsichore  as  a  hostage  with 
Mrs.  Wix,  and  said  that  one  day  he  might  return. 
Sir  Monty  would  not  hear  of  it. 

"  I  can  never  repay  you,"  he  said,  "  for  all  that  you 
have  done  for  Dorothy,  never,  never." 

"  Ach,  I  do  not  like  de  vord  '  pay,'  "  replied  the 
baron;  "  among  vriends  dere  is  no  need  of  pay  except 
vith  de  coin  of  kindness.  Ve  both  vait  vor  dat  ter- 
rible duchesse !  " 

Nevertheless,  the  baron  discovered  that  his  bank 
balance,  which  on  the  previous  day  had  stood  exactly 
at  seventeen  pounds  three  shillings  and  threepence, 
suddenly  mounted  to  the  sum  of  five  thousand  and 
seventeen  pounds  three  shillings  and  threepence.  With 
characteristic  independence  and  pride  he  refused  to 
accept  so  large  a  sum  without  offering  security,  and 
with  great  earnestness  he  proposed  to  transfer  to  the 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         357 

young  baronet  the  copyright  of  "  The  History  of 
Dancing,  in  all  Ages,  and  among  all  Peoples."  Sir 
Monty,  to  please  him,  took  over  the  rights,  and  the 
business  was  settled.  It  is  true  that  the  book  had 
apparently  no  market  value  whatever,  but  its  author 
maintained  that  its  time  was  coming.  Arabella  had 
likewise  made  delicate  inquiries  as  to  the  Baron's 
financial  position,  and  eagerly  desired  to  assist  him. 
His  serenity  in  the  midst  of  poverty  and  no  hope 
astonished  her.  But  all  that  she  got  from  him  was  — 

"  Ach  ja,  I  vait.  De  future  is  de  great  pank  for 
us  all." 

"  Oh,"  she  said  to  him  one  day,  with  a  great  shake 
of  her  curls,  "  I  have  had  good  news  from  Monsieur 
Dumaresq.  He  says  that  that  horrible  speculative 
banking  company  in  which  your  capital  was  invested 
has  been  slowly  recovering,  and  will  yet  liquidate  all 
its  debts." 

"  Ach  ja,"  replied  the  baron,  laughing,  "  I  vill  be 
dead  by  dat  time.  I  haf  danced  my  life  avay.  Vat 
are  you  doing  vith  Dorrie?  Dat  is  de  question.  I 
vill  be  dead  before  I  see  her.  And  you  break  de  boy's 
heart,  too." 

But  Arabella  shook  her  curls  at  him  again,  and 
remained  obstinate.  Her  tyranny  compelled  him  to 
become  a  conspirator,  and  with  the  help  of  a  govern- 
ess he  succeeded  in  passing  letters  between  the  lovers. 
At  the  end  of  the  first  year  Sir  Monty  expected  that 


358         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

the  great  moment  of  meeting  had  arrived,  but  Baron 
von  Habenichts  was.  told  to  inform  him  that  Miss 
Dorothy  Darsham,  in  the  company  of  two  governesses 
and  a  lady's  maid,  had  gone  to  Paris  to  complete  her 
education.  Thereafter  she  was  to  start  for  Italy  and 
the  Levant,  and  she  was  to  spend  two  months  in 
Cairo,  one  in  Athens,  and  one  in  Algiers.  It  was 
with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  Baron  von  Habe- 
nichts prevented1  Sir  Monty  from  following  like  a 
sleuthhound. 

"  Nein,  vait,"  he  said,  "  it  all  koms  right,  and  I 
haf  a  plan." 

His  plan  was  as  follows.  It  occurred  to  him  that 
during  this  exasperating  delay  they  should  attempt 
to  bring  distinction  to  Dorothy,  apart  from  anything 
which  the  dowager  might  be  able  to  achieve  for  her. 
Now  Mr.  Jedder,  during  his  negotiations  with  Sam 
Larkin,  had  discovered  a  dozen  of  her  pictures  in  a 
coach-house.  He  was  informed  that  they  were  the 
work  and  property  of  Miss  Dorothy  Darsham,  and  he 
sent  them  to  Baron  von  Habenichts,  who  stored  them 
in  his  room  in  Wix's  Residential  Hotel.  He  now 
decided  to  send  some  of  them  to  the  Spring  Exhi- 
bition at  the  Academy,  and  others  to  an  Exhibition 
in  the  Grafton  Galleries.  Sir  Monty  entered  enthu- 
siastically into  the  scheme,  so  that,  unknown  to  Dor- 
othy, her  pictures  were  already  hanging  on  the  line. 
Laudatory  notices  began  to  appear  in  the  newspapers 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         359 

and  the  art  journals  and  critics  asked,  "  Who  is  Miss 
Dorothy  Darsham  ?  "  Her  name  was  mentioned  along 
with  the  names  of  Angelica  Kaufmann,  Madame  le 
Brun,  and  Rosa  Bonheur.  One  picture  entitled,  "  A 
London  Cab  Yard,"  was  described  as  a  masterpiece 
of  characterisation,  and  was  said  to  be  "  full  of  at- 
mosphere." But  the  forest  pieces  attracted  most  at- 
tention. Thus  it  was  at  the  private  view  of  the 
Academy  that  Arabella,  Duchess  of  Berkshire,  found 
herself  standing  before  a  charming  little  landscape 
called,  "  Morning  in  Epping  Forest."  She  remarked 
upon  it,  and  stood  looking  at  it  through  her  lorgnette. 

"Ach  ja,  Duchesse,"  said  Baron  von  Habenichts, 
who,  in  faultless  frock  coat  and  with  his  silk  hat  in 
his  hand,  was  standing  beside  her.  "  De  Times  says 
it  has  de  quality  of  Corot,  and  de  Morning  Post  dat 
it  has  de  quality  of  Vatteau." 

"  I  cannot  see  how  it  can  have  both !  "  exclaimed 
Monsieur  Dumaresq,  "  but  it  is  perfectly  charming, 
BO  cool,  so  full  of  the  colour  of  the  morning.  Why, 
it  has  the  dew  in  it !  " 

"  I  would  like  to  have  it,"  said  Arabella.  "  I  will 
buy  it" 

"  I  vould  not  be  surprised  if  it  is  bought  already, 
Duchesse,"  said  von  Habenichts,  on  the  verge  of 
laughter,  smiling  and  exchanging  knowing  glances 
with  Monsieur  Dumaresq. 

"  Perhaps  a  dealer  has  bought  it,"  said  Arabella. 


360         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTEK 

"  Would  you  inquire  ?  I  will  buy  it  from 
him." 

Baron  von  Habenichts  walked  into  another  room 
while  Arabella  continued  to  study  the  picture  and  to 
express  her  admiration. 

"  A  dealer,  Duchesse  ?  "  exclaimed  the  baron,  who 
had  returned.  "  De  dealer  is  Sir  Monty  Marduke." 

"  Then  he  is  a  double  dealer,"  said  Monsieur 
Dumaresq,  who  was  in  the  secret. 

"  Monty !  Oh  ?  "  said  the  dowager.  "  He  has  in- 
herited his  mother's  love  of  pictures,  then.  I  am 
glad.  Who  painted  this  ?  Will  you  look  up  the 
catalogue,  Baron  ?  " 

Baron  von  Habenichts  solemnly  opened  the  cata- 
logue at  the  right  number,  and  read  out  the  follow- 
ing —  "  '  Morning  in  Epping  Eorest.'  By  Dorothy 
Darsham.'  " 

Arabella  turned,  and  gave  him  a  hurried  look. 
"  Ach  ja,"  he  said,  laughing  while  Monsieur  Du- 
maresq joined  in,  "  she  is  vamous  already.  All  de 
town  talks  about  her." 

"  But  I  did  n't  know  that  she  painted  at  all !  "  ex- 
claimed Arabella.  "  Did  you,  Monsieur  Dumaresq  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  and  I  am  only  waiting  impa- 
tiently to  see  her." 

"  This  is  a  revelation,"  said  Arabella,  as  she  re- 
ceived the  congratulations  of  her  friends,  and  exam- 
ined the  picture  once  more. 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         361 

"  Where  is  she,  Duchess  ? "  asked  Monsieur  Du- 
maresq.  "  When  are  we  to  be  privileged  to  see  this 
extraordinary  young  creature  ?  " 

"  I  had  a  telegram  from  Budapest  this  morning," 
said  Arabella,  adding  nothing. 

But  flushed  and  pleased  she  drove  back  to  Grosve- 
nor  Square.  There  had  been  various  rumours  that 
a  most  romantic  marriage  was  to  take  place  in  June, 
and  Sir  Monty  Marduke's  name  was  coupled  with 
the  name  of  a  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Swaffham. 
She  had  come  from  nowhere,  and  the  mystery  thick- 
ened. The  dowager  looked  forward  with  some  anx- 
iety to  the  debut  because  she  feared  the  tongues  of 
the  cacklers  and  of  the  scandal  merchants  of  both 
sexes.  At  some  moment  she  lost  heart,  and  became 
angry  with  herself  for  having  attempted  the  experi- 
ment. But  she  trusted  friends  like  Lady  Lorming- 
ton,  Monsieur  Dumaresq,  and  Count  Stein.  The 
audacity,  the  generosity  of  the  experiment  would 
silence  and  baffle  those  who  jibed  and  joked.  More- 
over, the  dowager  was  conscious  of  the  beginnings 
of  old  age,  and  she  was  looking  out  for  an  heir.  She, 
too,  had  now  become  impatient  for  Dorothy's  suc- 
cess. That  success  was  assured  the  moment  that 
Monsieur  Dumaresq,  with  eye-glass  duly  mounted, 
uttered  a  subdued  exclamation  of  delight  and 
surprise  when  he  saw  the  long-expected  vision  of 
beauty  enter  the  room.  She  wore  a  mauve  gown. 


362         THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

All  eyes  were  upon  her,  and  her  triumph  was 
instantaneous. 

"  She  is  perfectly  lovely,"  whispered  Lady  Lor- 
mington  to  Arabella  as  they  walked  in  to  luncheon. 
It  was  a  round  table,  and  besides  the  hostess,  Lady 
Lormington,  and  Dorothy,  there  were  present  Mon- 
sieur Dumaresq,  Count  Stein  and  Baron  von  Habe- 
nichts.  The  last  was  strangely  silent.  He  had 
hardly  recognised  Dorothy,  who  had  now  the  air  of 
a  dame  du  monde.  He  was  almost  too  pleased  to 
speak,  and  seemed  to  be  transported  to  earlier  scenes 
and  to  be  busy  with  the  fantasies  of  his  phantas- 
magoria. Dorothy  was  not  surprised  to  find  him  at 
her  aunt's  house,  for  she  had  already  been  told  the 
true  tale  of  his  career.  She  sat  between  him  and 
Monsieur  Dumaresq. 

"  Ach  ja,"  said  the  baron  to  her,  "  you  miss  some 
one?  He  koms,  he  koms." 

Dorothy  blushed.  She  acquitted  herself  admirably 
in  conversation,  and  when  she  began  to  speak  of 
Italy,  Baron  von  Habenichts  recovered  his  usual 
animation.  He  delighted  Arabella  by  his  quotation 
from  the  poetry  of  Lorenzo  dei  Medici,  and  it  was 
with  a  smile  and  a  glance  at  Dorothy  that  he  re- 
peated a  verse  of  the  song  to  a  dancer  — 

"  Ella  e  direttamente  ballerina 
Ch'ella  si  lancia  come  una  capretta 
E  gira  piu  che  ruota  di  mulina 
E  dassi  delle  man  nella  scarpetta." 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         363 

"  When  is  the  wedding  to  be  ? "  asked  Lady 
Lormington.  f 

"  Whenever  they  wish,"  replied  Arabella,  "  she 
shall  have  my  pearls,  you  know." 

The  guests  departed  as  if  by  arrangement,  and 
the  dowager  and  Dorothy  were  left  alone  in  the 
best  drawing-room. 

"  Will  you  let  me  kiss  you  ? "  asked  Dorothy. 

"  Yes,"  said  Arabella,  offering  her  old  grey  cheek, 
"  and  you  can  call  me  '  aunt '  for  ever.  You  are  a 
dear  child.  I  am  very  pleased  with  you." 

At  that  moment  Sir  Monty  Marduke  was  an- 
nounced. But  before  the  young  baronet  entered  the 
dowager  had  risen,  and  had  said  to  her  niece,  "  Be 
sensible !  "  and  with  a  shake  of  her  curls  had  walked 
out  by  the  east  door  in  a  very  stately  fashion. 


CHAPTER    TWENTY-FOURTH 

THE  ink  bottle  grows  empty,  the  pen  stumbles  to  its 
last  paragraph,  and  our  troupe  come  home  one  by 
one  from  their  strolling.  It  was  fitting  that  he  who 
had  been  the  most  prominent  in  all  their  antics  should 
play  an  important  role  in  the  final  scene.  There- 
fore, it  was  Baron  von  Habenichts  who,  at  the  most 
brilliant  marriage  of  that  season  in  London,  gave 
the  bride  away.  While  the  house  in  Portland  Place 
was  being  prepared  for  the  reception  of  the  new 
Lady  Marduke,  he  had  gone  quietly  back  to  Wix's 
Residential  Hotel.  Mrs.  Wix  was  deceived,  how- 
ever, if  she  supposed  that  he  would  remain  for  any 
length  of  time.  The  baron  was  somewhat  annoyed 
by  a  recent  action  of  Mr.  Coon,  who,  unable  to  con- 
trol his  journalistic  instincts,  had  sent  long  accounts 
of  his  career  to  the  newspapers  under  the  title  of 
"  The  Dancing  Baron,"  and  "  The  Dancing  Philoso- 
pher." Now  we  certainly  know  that  he  was  not  a 
whit  ashamed  of  his  adventures.  But  Mr.  Coon  had 
embellished  his  narrative  with  imaginative  matter 
some  of  which  was  offensive.  The  Baron  was  be- 
sieged by  reporters.  He  laughed  very  heartily  when 

364 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         365 

he  was  invited  to  appear  on  the  variety  stage.  The 
Baron  had  actually  become  famous,  and  the  four  or 
five  thousand  volumes  of  "  The  History  of  Dancing  " 
were  brought  from  the  cellar  in  which  they  were 
mouldering,  and  were  placed  upon  the  book  market 
A  new  edition  was  announced,  whereupon  Sir  Monty 
Marduke  gallantly  retransferred  the  copyright  to  the 
author.  Articles  and  paragraphs  began  to  appear 
in  the  Press  concerning  the  foreign  nobleman  who 
had  doffed  his  noblesse  and  had  fought  and  defied 
poverty  in  London,  and  had  taught  polkas  and  quad- 
rilles, minuets  and  the  two-step  in  The  Original  Jellini 
Academy  of  Dancing.  Mrs.  Wix  was  much  pleased 
when  she  saw  her  parlour  crowded  by  interviewers. 
There  was  a  great  demand  for  bedrooms,  and  the  house 
began  to  fill.  She  offered  the  baron  a  suite  for  noth- 
ing, and  was  offended  at  his  refusal. 

"  Ach  ja,"  said  he,  turning  to  Mr.  Botolph  with  a 
laugh,  "  it 's  like  the  innkeeper  who  kept  Dumas 
pere  as  a  show,  and  gave  him.  food  and  drink  for  no- 
ting. Only  I  am  not  Dumas !  " 

Mrs.  Wix's  attentions  and  those  of  Mr.  Coon  and 
even  of  Mr.  Pumpherston  began  to  weary  him.  Mr. 
Snape  the  dentist  had  likewise  developed  into  a  bore. 
He  had  written  a  long  book  on  the  "  Physiology  of 
Sneezing,"  insisted  on  reading  immense  passages  to 
the  baron,  and  asked  him  as  a  successful  author  and 
as  a  great  gentleman  to  use  his  influence  to  have  the 


366         THE    OLD    DANCE   MASTER 

book  published.  The  baron,  however,  genially  ex- 
pressed his  regret,  and  then  sneezed.  Life  at  Wix's 
was  becoming  burdensome  in  spite  of  the  entertain- 
ment which  was  still  provided  by  Sir  Samuel  Ep- 
worth's  hilarity,  and  in  spite  of  the  friendship  of  Mr. 
Botolph,  who  implored  Baron  von  Habenichts  to 
remain. 

But  on  a  certain  evening  in  June  there  was  con- 
sternation in  the  hotel.  A  large  van  was  at  the  door, 
and  the  statue  of  Terpsichore  was  being  carried  down 
the  steps  on  the  shoulders  of  four  stalwart  men.  A 
trunk  and  a  travelling  bag  each  with  the  name  Habe- 
nichts followed  Terpsichore  into  the  van.  Moreover, 
other  luggage  labelled  "  Henry  Botolph4,  Esq.,"  was 
placed  on  the  roof  of  a  four-wheeled  cab  which  was 
in  waiting.  Mrs.  Wix  was  casting  recriminations  on 
the  baron  and  accusing  him  of  conspiracy.  For 
Wurm  had  decided  to  follow  him  and  die  in  his 
service,  and  a  chambermaid  had  made  the  same 
declaration. 

"  They  did  n't  give  notice,"  said  Mrs.  Wix,  an- 
grily. "  /  won't  pay  wages  to  'em." 

"  I  told  them  not  to  kom,  Mrs.  Yix.  But  they 
kom!  Good-bye!  I  vill  pay  de  vages,"  said  the 
baron,  leading  the  procession  down  the  steps. 

Wurm  and  the  chambermaid  went  off,  walking, 
and  Mr.  Botolph  and  the  baron  entered  the  cab  after 
they  had  waved  farewell  to  the  Wixians  assembled 
at  the  door. 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         367 

That  morning  a  conversation  had  taken  place 
between  Mr.  Botolph'  and  the  baron  in  Mrs.  Wix's 
parlour  while  they  were  drinking  Madeira  together. 
The  baron  said  that  he  had  an  extraordinary 
communication  to  make.  On  the  previous  day  Sir 
Monty  Marduke  had  driven  up  in  a  smart  dog-cart, 
attended  by  a  smart  groom  of  the  name  of  Vardy, 
who  stood  at  the  horse's  head  while  the  young  baro- 
net entered  Wix's  Residential  Hotel,  and  asked  to 
see  Baron  von  Habenichts.  The  interview  had  been 
a  most  affecting  one,  and  much  that  passed  between 
the  two  men  cannot  be  revealed.  It  may  be  said, 
however,  that  after  Sir  Monty's  departure  the  baron 
was  hardly  master  of  his  own  emotion.  His  eyes  were 
suffused,  and  he  was  not  altogether  capable  of  giving 
expression  to  his  feeling.  But  he  was  glad  that  Mr. 
Botolph  came  into  the  room  because  he  desired  to 
speak  to  him.  Mr.  Botolph  sat  in  an  armchair,  and, 
as  usual,  he  had  Bradshaw  in  his  hand. 

"  I  am,"  he  said,  "  just  going  over  to  Euston  to 
meet  the  train  from  Liverpool.  My  son  is  sure  to  be 
there.  This  is  the  great  surprise." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Botolph,"  said  Baron  von  Habenichts, 
"  virst  listen  to  me.  /  haf  a  great  surprise.  Ja, 
extraordinary !  Sir  Monty  has  just  told  me  incredible 
news.  Oh,  vat  do  you  suppose  ?  He  says  that  he  has 
bought  a  fine  house  in  Russell  Square,  vurnished  it, 
dat  it  is  mine  for  life  vith  one  tousand  five  hundred 


368         THE    OLD    DANCE   MASTER 

a  year.  Dej  haf  been  preparing  it  during  de  last 
two  months,  and  de  duchesse  help  them." 

"  I  am  delighted,"  said  Mr.  Botolph.  "  He  is  a 
splendid  young  fellow,  and  he  shows  his  gratitude 
for  all  that  you  have  done  for  his  future  wife.  The 
marriage  takes  place  this  week." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  baron,  "  my  leetle  tancer  is  de 
vender  of  de  season.  All  rave  about  her,  and  de 
duchesse  is  praised  vor  de  great  success.  But  dat 
is  not  all.  Anoder  great  surprise.  I  ask  you  to  kom 
and  live  vith  me.  Vat  could  I  do  alone  in  de  big 
house?  Kom,  Mr.  Botolph." 

Mr.  Botolph's  refined  pale  face  was  illuminated 
by  a  faint  smile  as  he  rose  and  shook  his  friend's 
hand. 

"  I  will  be  your  guest  for  a  short  time  with  the 
greatest  pleasure,"  he  said ;  "  but  I  am  a  poor  man, 
and  you  are  about  to  enter,  you  have  already  re-en- 
tered the  kind  of  society  to  which  you  really  belong. 
Besides,  what  about  my  son  ?  He  will  wish  his  father 
to  live  with  him  after  such  a  separation." 

"  Ach  ja,"  replied  Baron  von  Habenichts,  turning 
away  his  head,  "  dere  will  be  room  vor  him,  too." 

"  Oh,  this  is  my  dream!  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Botolph. 
"  Thank  you,  thank  you.  Just  forgive  me.  I  '11  run 
across  to  Euston  to  meet  him,  and  I  will  tell  him.  Oh, 
this  is  my  dream !  " 

Mr.  Botolph  went,  and  came  back,  after  twenty 


THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER         369 

minutes,  and  sank  exhausted  in  his  chair  again.  Then 
he  said  softly ,  but  in  a  tone  of  assurance  which 
showed  that  his  mind  would  never  lose  hold  of  ite 
undying  illusion  — 

"  Not  there !    But  it  is  only  an  adjournment." 

Now,  to  the  dark  philosophy  which  teaches  that 
the  human  soul  has  lost  the  way  of  happiness  and  can 
never  find  it,  Baron  von  Habenichts  replied  that  it 
can  never  find  it  outside  of  itself.  He  knew,  of  course, 
that  Mr.  Botolph's  son  would  never  return.  He 
knew  that  his  own  property  was  lost  for  ever,  but 
he  said  that  the  soul's  real  property  is  in  its  emotions. 
His  own  plunge  into  poverty  had  taught  him  that 
there  is  hardly  any  situation  on  which  character  may 
not  react,  and  react  with  victory,  for  a  man's  char- 
acter is  his  Providence.  Life  may  be  acid,  but  the 
soul  need  not  become  the  acidimeter. 

"  Ach  ja,  Mr.  Botolph,"  he  said,  when  they  were 
both  sitting  after  dinner  at  their  wine  in  the  dining- 
room  at  Russell  Square,  "  dere  is  a  law  vich  is  true 
in  morals  as  also  in  gymnastics.  If  you  climb  and 
turn  giddy,  do  not  look  down.  De  giddiness  becomes 
vorse.  Look  up,  and  it  goes  avay !  " 

A  tall  footman  of  the  name  of  Ridpath,  who,  since 
we  last  met  him,  has  made  wonderful  progress  in  his 
education,  opens  the  door  of  the  house  in  Russell 
Square,  and  he  has  to  open  it  frequently  because 
Baron  von  Habenichts  has  troops  of  friends.  The  first 


370          THE    OLD   DANCE   MASTER 

object  which  meets  the  eye  of  the  visitor  as  he  enters 
the  house  is  the  statue  of  Terpsichore  from  which  its 
owner  has  decided  never  to  part,  because  she  is  the 
symbol  of  the  dance  and  rhythm  of  things.  And 
Terpsichore  is  at  home  there,  because  occasionally  the 
baron  gives  a  dance  to  which  Arabella,  Duchess  of 
Berkshire,  and  Lady  Marduke  bring  distinguished 
and  fascinating  young  guests. 

"  You  are  one  of  those  rare  men,"  said  Mr.  Botolph, 
"who  remain  unpoisoned  by  the  poisons  of  this  world." 

"  I  haf  had  a  happy  life,  Mr.  Botolph,"  replied 
the  baron.  "  I  haf  seen  de  fun  everywhere,  in  Mrs. 
Vix's  as  well  as  vith  de  duchesse.  Ve  must  take 
risks.  Ven  de  potter  makes  a  vase  he  knows  it  is  a 
risk  becose  a  vase  is  easily  broken.  Ach  ja,  and  ven 
Gott  makes  a  heart,  He  knows  it  is  a  risk  becose  a 
heart  is  easily  broken.  I  like  de  hearts  dat  break  as 
de  day  breaks  into  sunshine!  I  like  de  varm  flesh 
and  blood,  not  de  vrozen  meat  of  humanity!  I  re- 
peat to  myself  de  lines  of  de  Orphic  formula  — 

'tTo  hold  a  hand  uplifted  over  Hate, 
And  shall  not  Loveliness  be  loved  for  ever! ' ' 

He  was  a  man  who  had  never  done  an  ungenerous 
act,  who  had  never  given  to  an  ungenerous  thought 
guest-room  in  his  brain.  He  was  everywhere  welcome, 
and  hardly  a  day  passed  on  which  he  was  not  visited 
by  Sir  Monty  and  Lady  Marduke,  of  whose  happiness 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER         371 

he  was  the  author.  Mr.  Botolph  leads  a  dreamier 
and  more  secluded  life.  Often  his  host,  standing  at 
the  dining-room  window  and  looking  out  over  the 
Square,  observes  him  furtively  escaping  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Euston  to  meet  the  son  who  will  never  ar- 
rive. And  then,  if  it  be  an  afternoon  in  spring  or 
in  summer,  the  baron  walks  in  the  pleasant  gardens 
where,  under  the  great  trees,  he  can  hear,  like  the 
breaking  of  waves  far  off,  the  roar  of  London. 


372          THE    OLD    DANCE    MASTER 


Post  Scriptum 


The  author  had  scarcely  completed  his  task  when 
he  made  a  remarkable  discovery.  He  was  aware, 
as  the  text  shows,  of  the  letters  which  Arabella, 
Duchess  of  Berkshire,  wrote  to  Baron  von  Habenichts, 
but  he  had  never  seen  the  baron's  replies.  These 
have  now  been  placed  in  his  hands,  and  the  entire 
correspondence  contains  the  most  moving  history 
since  Heloise  and  Abelard.  For  it  not  only  reveals 
the  patience,  long  suffering  and  delicate  chivalry  of 
the  baron,  and  the  vigour  and  excitement  of  Ara- 
bella, but  it  throws  a  very  startling  light  on  the  in- 
trigue and  jealousy  of  Monsieur  Dumaresq,  Count 
Stein,  Lady  Lormington,  and  many  others.  The  two 
houses  in  Grosvenor  and  Russell  Square  became, 
indeed,  foci  of  wonderful  conspiracy,  and  it  was  in 
vain  that  Sir  Monty  and  Lady  Marduke  attempted 
to  prevent  war  between  the  two  camps.  The  letters 
are  full  of  Habenichtian  wisdom,  and,  besides,  they 
contain  many  references  to  the  baron's  former  as- 
sociates. Sir  Samuel  Epworth,  even  Mr.  Pumpher- 


THE    OLD   DANCE    MASTER         373 

ston,  even  Mrs.  Wix,  even  Mrs.  Bleeks  reappear  in 
Russell  Square,  and  the  baron's  later  life  was  not 
as  tranquil  as  it  promised  to  be.  An  effort  will  be 
made  to  reduce  all  this  overflowing  material  to  order, 
and  to  publish  it  in  due  season. 


J£  spyn«N  REQOML  LBRMY  FACUT> 


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